Conquering Loneliness
by fantasyaddict95
Summary: Come 6th year at Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy has a lot on his mind: NEWT-level classes, Quidditch, and a new affiliation with the Death Eaters. On top of that, he is secretly gay, and finds himself harboring feelings for a certain Gryffindor Golden Boy. drarry
1. A Realization

Draco Malfoy never believed that gay people were "made"; that you could "turn" someone gay; that someone could switch back and forth between sexual orientations. He never believed it was a choice.

Draco more than believed it; he knew it. He'd known he was gay for a long time, and he'd been gay for as long as he could remember. He looked back and recalled the feelings he tried so long to suppress, the insecurities in his mind, the secrets he could never tell. He always thought: Why WOULD anybody choose this?

If he could've chosen, he'd be straight as an arrow, no doubt about that. It was so much easier that way, after all. He'd tried the whole girl…thing, plenty of times. He would stare at them a lot, trying to muster up some sort of interest in them. He talked to them when he could. He looked at a couple PLAYWARLOCK magazines. Hell, he even kissed a girl once, on a dare. She was pretty too. The problem was… he felt nothing. No strange lurch of the stomach. No tingling of the nerves. Girls were nice and all. They even made great friends. But still, try as he may, girls just didn't do it for Draco.

Boys, on the other hand, were a different story.

When Draco was nine years old, he was out playing on the lawn of the Manor when he stumbled outside of the boundaries set by his family's protective charms, which hid the large house from prying eyes. Draco was startled when he walked almost directly into a boy who had had been wandering just outside of the enchantments. It was a Muggle boy, Draco's age, named Sam, who was quite outgoing and amiable. Draco was wary of the enthusiastic Muggle at first, after all, Draco didn't know much magic and he hadn't a wand to defend himself. However, he quickly grew to like Sam, silencing the voice in his head which said he was "only a Muggle".

Draco and Sam got aquatinted. Sam did most of the talking, as Draco was an introverted child, but Draco didn't mind. He liked having someone to talk to, even if Sam was a Muggle. Draco usually felt rather lonely. As they talked, Draco grudgingly began to notice Sam on another level. The boy had deep brown eyes and deep brown hair, which fell in soft waves around his head down to the top of his earlobes. His skin was light, and he had freckles on his cheeks and nose. His grin was big and toothy and it lit up his face.

Not long after the two were met, Sam eagerly started up a game. Sam was shocked that Draco wasn't familiar with the game. He had to explain it to him. The idea was simple enough, Draco thought: One person hides and the other person has to look for him. "Hide-and-Go-Seek", Sam called it. Draco stifled the thought of "Simple-minded Muggles and their games" and agreed to the play a round. Sam, predictably, pronounced himself "it", and started counting to twenty. Knowing the time crunch, Draco struggled to think of a good hiding spot. He could use magic, he supposed, but decided against it.

Eventually choosing a nice tree to crouch behind, Draco heard "TWENTY!" and the sound of footsteps starting in his direction. Draco was surprised when he found himself really getting into the game. He heard, in the near silence, his heart beating quickly in his ears and noticed he had even started to sweat a little. He braced himself to be as still as possible. Through a gap in the many branches near the bottom of the tree, Draco could see Sam. Draco watched him as he looked in some nearby bushes, behind a boulder. Sam was whistling all the while, and smiling.

As Draco shifted to get a better view of the boy, a twig underneath his foot snapped with a loud crack. Sam froze where he was, his back to Draco, who was cursing inwardly. Sam slowly turned around, a wicked grin on his face.

"Come out, come out where ever you are, or else I'm gonna find you," he said, his voice soft and playful. But Draco did not budge. He had stopped looking at the other boy, and now had his back pressed against the tree, his breathing short. He could hear Sam's footfall as he walked closer and closer to Draco's hideout.

When Sam was about two feet away from the tree, close enough to touch it, Draco bolted. He ran and ran, ignoring shouts of "Hey! That's against the rules!"

Soon enough, though, Sam gave in to the new turn of events and started chasing after the retreating boy. It was a long chase, since both boys were young and agile. They wove through the trees and rocks, both laughing. They were a very competitive pair. They knew someone had to run out of breath eventually, but neither wanted to be the first to surrender.

Not seeing Sam anywhere nearby, Draco finally skidded to a stop, gasping for breath. Little did he know, his friend was hidden behind a tree close by, waiting like a lion about to pounce.

Sam jumped suddenly from his hiding place, and was greeted by a shout from Draco, who was startled. Then, with a sort of dancer's grace, before Draco could escape, Sam leaped and tackled the other boy to the ground.

Despite Draco's struggling, Sam had soon pinned him to the ground, grinning triumphantly. Draco had stopped struggling, and lay there looking up into Sam's face, becoming strangely aware of the other boy on top of him. The pressure felt nice, and he felt the heat coming off from Sam's body.

"I win!" Sam said happily. Draco, still lost in his strange thoughts, smiled up at him, not really caring about defeat. Sam looked confused at this.

"Well, aren't you angry that you lost?" he asked. Sam's question was met by nothing but more smiling on Draco's part.

"Is something a'matter, with you?" Sam said "Why don't you say something?" Sam leaned closer to the boy underneath him as he said this, as if answers would come if he just got a closer look at him. Draco, without really thinking about it or knowing why, leaned forward suddenly and kissed Sam on his lips.

It only lasted a second before Sam pushed Draco away hard, and Draco's head slammed on the ground. Sam jumped up hastily.

"What'dja do that for?!" Sam shouted while wiping his mouth furiously on his sleeve, so that his words came out muffled. Draco, still on the ground, was blushing heatedly and had a look of horror on his face.

"I… I…j-just…er," he stammered, his thoughts everywhere at once. He couldn't think straight, and he was vaguely aware that his head hurt. Sam was glaring at him.

"Your face is really red," said Sam. At this, Draco blushed deeper. He stumbled to his feet, his head throbbing.

"I…er…have to go now," he said quickly, his voice small. He did not dare look Sam in the eye. With that, Draco spun around and ran away as fast as he could, not glancing back. He ran all the way back towards the Malfoy Manor, to home, for lack of a better word.

Once he felt certain that Sam was out of eyesight, finally dismissing the vague notion that the boy would run after him again, Draco collapsed. He lay down in the grass near a large tree and wept with abandon. He wept because of rejection and confusion and loneliness, and because his father would punish him severely if he were to cry at home. He lay there facedown on the grass, his breathing choking sobs and his tears seeping into the dirt. When he had finished, he wiped his eyes and continued walking, except slower this time, since he wanted the evidence to disappear before he got home. Puffy eyes and a red face, the aftermath of crying, were weaknesses. Draco laughed bitterly, thinking of his father's words. He wished he could harden himself against the things that hurt him. Maybe if he did that, then his life wouldn't be so painful. Maybe he wouldn't wish so much he could be somebody else, anybody else. Maybe…

Draco never saw the Muggle boy, Sam, again.


	2. A First Meeting

_Thanks to everyone who's reading this and to those who have reviewed! I appreciate you all immensely. You are the reason I keep writing! Well, here's the next installment of _Conquering Loneliness_ and I'm pretty happy with it. This chapter and the previous one are kind of like a prep-up for the next chapter, where the real action starts. Yay! Lol. Keep on reading and REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW. _

Disclaimer_ = I do not own the Harry Potter books and am writing this solely for my own and others enjoyment, not any profit. If I did own Harry Potter, I'd be a VERY happy person. _

By the time Halloween came during Draco's first year at Hogwarts, there was no doubt in his mind, and he would tell you if you asked. Harry Potter was not the "Boy-Who-Lived". He was the boy who annoyed the shit out of him.

There Draco was, the first day. He had thought about it, hell, dreamed about it for weeks. Of course, he thought, he knew everything there was to know about Hogwarts. His family had been going there for generations. It was as set in stone as his pure-blood heritage, and just as certain as the fact he would be in Slytherin, like every Malfoy before him. Still, he was excited. He was jittery with anticipation of going there at last, walking the halls, learning real magic, maybe even making , like every other wizard child, had grown up knowing Harry Potter's name. It was odd. In talking with others, he came to realize that most kids' parents shared this information with them easily, happily even. Draco had never known why his parents tried to hide the books with Harry Potter's name in them, and whenever he asked about him, they grew hushed and didn't respond. Draco eventually learned to stop asking.

When he walked up to Harry Potter that day, he followed his instincts, instilled in him by his father: Ally with people who are stronger than you. This could mean physically stronger, smarter, more powerful, anyone with something you could benefit from. With Harry Potter, there was no question about it. He must have some extraordinary ability to have done what he did, and at that young. He was famous, and that appealed to Draco's instincts.

So Draco when strode into Harry Potter's compartment that day, the dim and boorish, but possibly useful Crabbe and Goyle tailing him, he was legitimately surprised when he caught sight of those who sat there. He did not know exactly what he expected to see, but certainly not the small, nervous boy he had met at Madam Malkins a few weeks before. Draco struggled to remember exactly what he and Harry Potter had talked about that day, so that he could reference the conversation when he spoke to Harry now, but when his memory came up blank, he decided to pretend it had never happened. He hadn't paid much attention to the boy at the robe shop then. He would now.

In the few seconds before he spoke, he acknowledged a Weasley boy sitting by Harry, to some distaste. His father had told him about the Weasleys. He quickly turned back to Harry, taking in his dark hair and emerald eyes, and was a bit taken aback to see the annoyance there. He could tell that Harry recognized him, but he didn't seem to be pleased to see him again. Harry's look made Draco uncomfortable, but Draco quickly turned defensive, crossing his arms over his chest. He'd been nice enough, hadn't he? Draco tried to pull off his defensiveness as overconfidence, put on his usual smirk, and said:

"Is it true? They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment, So it's you, is it?" Of course it was him, Draco thought, even as he asked. He could see the scar from where he was standing.

"Yes," Harry said. Draco nodded, but was irritated to see Harry eying Crabbe and Goyle. Though Draco kind of liked how they looked on either side of him, like bodyguards, he wanted Harry to pay attention to him. He introduced them, quickly, to get it over and done with, and then, with more enthusiasm, introduced himself. When the Weasley snickered, a flame went off inside him.

"Think my name's funny, do you?" Draco said angrily, "No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they could afford." Draco felt a tinge of satisfaction when he saw the ginger flush, but then felt a bit of regret. If Weasley was Harry Potter's friend, he didn't want to alienate him. But his desire for further retribution beat out his thought to be civil. And, Draco considered, maybe Harry Potter _wasn't_ the Weasely's friend. Maybe they just sat together in the compartment on an off-chance. Maybe Harry didn't know any better. With this in mind, Draco decided to give a go at enlightening him.

"You'll soon find out that some wizarding families are better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort," he said. Hesitating for only a second he said: "I can help you there".

Draco held out his hand, hopeful, what he thought of as a knowing smirk on his face, but this faltered when he saw the coldness in Harry's expression. Draco knew the cause was lost then, even before anything was said, and his outstretched hand dropped to his side.

"I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks," Harry said. Well, Draco thought. He felt his face go hot, and his features molded into a scowl. With as much venom as he could eject into his voice, he said slowly:

"I'd be careful if I were you, Potter. Unless you're a bit politer you'll go the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good for them either. You hang around like riffraff like the Weasleys and that oaf Hagrid, and it'll rub off on you."

When Potter and Weasley both sprung up, Draco realized how low he'd just hit, and wanted to kick himself. He could forget any chance of befriending Potter now.

"Say that again," Weasley said, his face so red that Draco would have laughed if it were any other situation. Draco glanced at Harry quickly, and saw Weasley's expression reflected. Guess they are friends, he thought meekly. He retreated at the intensity of their glares, and was glad to have Crabbe and Goyle there to back him up. He had no desire to 'say that again', but there was nothing to do but go along with it now, he supposed.

"Oh, you're going to fight us, are you?" he scoffed.

"Unless you get out now," Harry retorted. The order stung, but Draco laughed, and it sounded fake to him. Bothered by his bitter, remorseful thoughts, Draco told himself to get over it already.

He wanted to leave, actually, since the situation made him uncomfortable, but he refused to follow Potter's orders. He wanted to win. With Crabbe and Goyle there, he figured could say or do anything he felt like.

"But we don't feel like leaving, do we, boys?" Draco forced himself to say. He looked to Crabbe and Goyle for back-up. And, inspired by their nods of approval, he added:

"We've eaten all our food and you still seem to have some." Of course I had to say something stupid, Draco thought directly afterwards, but the greedy oafs had already started reaching for the pile of sweets on the compartment seat. Before Draco could say a word to stop them, Weasley practically leapt towards Goyle. Draco noticed that Harry made no attempt to hold him back. Then, before they even made contact, all hell broke loose: that bloody rat bit Goyle. Everyone was shouting and the rat was whirling round and round on the lout's fat finger. When it finally flew off, slamming against the window, Draco rushed out of the compartment without a look back, and he wasn't surprised to see that Crabbe and Goyle had followed him.

And so it began. The years undoubtedly came and went. The naive first years grew slowly. They learned; they got older and more mature. And as sure as anything was throughout the years, Draco and Harry loathed each other. The incident on the train was only the beginning to a seemingly endless array of insults, hexes, tricks, and fights. On the sidelines, Draco watched as Harry and Weasley became like brothers, the mudblood Granger like his sister, and the half-giant Hagrid a beloved friend. Draco also noticed himself change, and he was pleased. Gone was the poor, helpless nine-year-old of his past, and ashamed of himself and frightened of the world, so Draco told himself. He had power now. People looked up to him, and did what he said. He walked with confidence. He would be somebody. And his father would be proud.

But sometimes, when he saw Harry Potter, he didn't feel as sure. Potter, Weasley, Granger, and there were others in the group sometimes too… they had something, and it wasn't anything Draco's father could buy and it wasn't anything he could force someone in to: They laughed together. They linked arms and threw arms across each other's shoulders. They let someone borrow a jumper on a cool day, and they shared Butterbeer and firewhiskey snuck in from Hogsmeade. They helped each other study. They defended each other, and they squeezed the others' hands when they were in a tough place. They let the others see them cry, and they comforted the one crying. Money and a famous name could get you a lot of things, but they couldn't get Draco that.

And of course, there was that one issue that could zap Draco's sureness in an instant: his sexuality. He was sure of it by then, but he tried not to think about it often, and he certainly could never tell anyone. Draco knew that. But since he couldn't tell, he had to hide it, which turned out to be exceedingly difficult. It felt like there was forever a huge, suffocating weight on his chest, choking him. But there was nothing to do but hold his breath, and wait.

Then, with the summer behind them… the 6th year of Draco and Harry's Hogwarts career started, and everything was about to change.

_Reviews may not make the world go round, but they do make a writer want to write more!!_


	3. A New Year

"Get your arse out of bed, you lump!"

Draco's eyes flew open, and, startled, he jumped out of bed. He grabbed his wand from the bedside table and pointed it in the direction of the shouter, a frenzied look in his eyes.

"Someone's jumpy lately, aren't you, Malfoy?" Blaise Zabini said easily, smirking. Seeing who it was, Draco's fervor vanished instantly. He dropped his wand arm to his side, and collapsed back onto the bed, still utterly exhausted. He hadn't the energy even to be annoyed. From the bed, and in a monotone, he said:

"And who are you to determine my sleeping and waking, Zabini? I am not much in need of a nanny, thank you, but I do sympathize with your apparent need to monitor me constantly, since it is undoubtedly due to my impossible charm and ravishing good looks." Zabini stared incredulously at him for a moment. Then, he scoffed.

"Hardly, Malfoy," he said, "Just thought you ought to know breakfast ends in 10 minutes. It is the first day of school after all, and I just _know _how excited you are about that." He smirked, and Draco scowled, and then Zabini strolled out of the boy's dormitory and down the steps. Draco laid there for a while, staring up at the ceiling, bare feet dangling off the bed.

They had arrived at Hogwarts last night in the midst of a rainstorm. Draco was quite fond of rain, actually. He liked listening to it patter against windows when he was inside, curled up with a book, a cup of tea at his elbow.

Nowadays, however, he had more important things on his mind. Draco recalled how cocky he had felt last night, in front of his fellow Slytherins. He had hesitated before hinting about it, not sure if he should, but he figured they were the best possible audience for his news, and he longed to tell somebody. As he'd suspected, they'd "oo-ed" and "ah-ed" and Draco felt like he was the King of the Universe. Well, Prince, rather, he thought. They all knew who was king. The thought of the Dark Lord always sent a shot of adrenaline through Draco's system. His hair stood on end and his heart beat faster. He was afraid of Him, of course, but more overpowering than that fear was the feeling of excitement that hit him when he was informed of his task. This was his opportunity, his chance. This would make him _somebody_. And so he bragged. _So what?_ He knew he was on the right path to make his father proud.

His father. Anger had surged through him at the thought of his father, trapped in Azkaban by the meddling Order of the Pheonix and leaded by the old fool Dumbledore. And who was the cause of that? Who was the cause behind every shitty thing in Draco's life?

Potter. None other than Harry Potter. Who else? Draco was actually a bit thrilled when he caught sight of Potter eavesdropping in their compartment, underneath his godforsaken invisibility cloak. Draco was feeling confident, and at the same time angry, wanting revenge for his father. Nothing could've been more perfect, he thought. He felt a surge of triumph as he bashed in Potter's nose, but as that faded, he locked eyes with Potter. He had such startlingly green eyes. Draco shook away that thought, and then shook away the almost... pity he felt seeing Potter lying there, helpless. Finally, Draco shook off the guilt he felt, leaving him lying there. Draco covered up his possibly revealing expression with a scowl as exited the train.

In the Great Hall, later that evening, Draco was surprised, to say the least, when Potter strode in. He was a bit irritated too. Why was it that nothing and nobody could get rid of him? The Dark Lord hadn't been able to, and Draco had been trying for practically his entire school career to do so. But no matter what he did, and no matter how hard he tried to beat Potter at everything, or _anything_, and no matter how hard he tried to faze him, it never seemed to work. Draco went as far as to smash his bloody face, and leave him there on the abandoned train, invisible, immobile, and defenseless. So how in the name of Merlin is he here now? Draco thought. He found himself so frustrated that he sincerely wanted to punch something.

On top of that, Potter's face was completely covered with blood. How fantastic, Draco thought, him being an utter spectacle as usual. Draco had in fact not told anyone about the incident on the train. He would have, normally, but for some reason, he just wanted to forget the whole thing had ever happened. Potter wins again, Draco thought bitterly. He would, of course, tell Granger and Weasley, and it would spread from there until they all knew. All of them. Draco didn't know why that bothered him so much all of a sudden.

Rubbing his temples with his fingertips, Draco watched as Harry Potter continued on to his seat at the Gryffindor table. As if sensing Draco's eyes upon him, Harry looked up, and Draco found his gaze met with a look of such loathing that he had to turn away.

After that, Draco felt suddenly drained, and he wanted nothing more than to go to bed immediately. All the excitement and overconfidence he had felt just a few hours before were zapped. He just felt… tired, and by the following morning, he got the idea that the feeling wasn't going away anytime soon.

Finally, sighing, Draco hauled himself out of bed. Glancing at his watch on the nightstand, he realized that class started in less than five minutes, and he cursed himself inwardly. It was true that Draco hadn't had any desire to return to Hogwarts that year, with all his other… commitments, but his mother and his father especially, before he'd been carted off to Azkaban the past summer, had urged Draco to come back in the fall and finish his education. Draco found it a bit ironic that, in light of his father's… _other_ interests, he valued education so highly. Draco would've been a fantastic disappointment to his father if he dropped out sixth year, despite the circumstances, and Draco couldn't have that.

Finally giving himself up to another year at Hogwarts, though reluctantly, Draco rushed around the bed to his trunk, still unpacked, all but tearing it open in the hurry to get dressed. He threw on his trousers and the first set of robes he could find. He shoved school books and supplies into his knapsack and pushed his arm through one of the straps and onto his shoulder. He barely had time to run a comb through his hair, and soon enough he was running out the door of the dormitory while simultaneously trying to fasten his watch and tie his shoe.

He ran down the stairs into the Slytherin common room, which was completely deserted, and out into the halls of the dungeons. He found himself grateful that his first class was Potions. It was just around the corner. Draco would be late, but not too late.

Skidding to a stop in front of the classroom door, Draco paused to catch his breath. Before entering, he reached into the pocket of his robes, and was very relieved to discover the familiar touch of his wand. He hadn't been entirely sure he'd grabbed it at all, in his rush. Thinking of something suddenly, Draco pointed the wand at his mouth and recited: _Freshiciuos Dentius_. He felt the instant mint-y tang spread throughout his mouth. Draco had always found the spell one useful, especially on days like today, when he didn't have time to brush his teeth.

Satisfied, Draco stored his wand back in his pocket, readjusted his knapsack, and walked into Potions class.


	4. A Potions Class

**Disclaimer: Much as I adore Harry Potter, it pains me to say that I own none of it.**

Draco bounded into Potions. Having miscalculated the amount of force needed to open the door, Draco winced inwardly as it slammed against the wall next to it with an astounding bang. Immediately, all eyes in the room flew to him. Draco generally liked being the center of attention, but he much preferred to be in his own element when this happened. He wanted to feel like he was in control of the situation.

Here, however, he was not. Draco, subconsciously expecting to see the greasy hair and black eyes of Severus Snape, started when he saw the portly, walrus-like man starring quizzically at him. _Slughorn_, Draco remembered. Snape had been transferred to Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Draco smirked, recalling the information. If only the fools knew where Snape's true loyalties lied, he saw then a flash of recognition in Slughorn's beady eyes.

"Good morning," he said loudly, "Mr. Malfoy, is it?" Draco nodded, knowing that his father had been one of Slughorn's "favorites" back when he was at Hogwarts. Maybe he would have it easy this year, like he always had it easy in Snape's class. But Slughorn only grunted in acknowledgement and turned away. Or maybe not, he thought.

"Well… take a seat, then." Slughorn gestured vaguely to where the rest of the class was seated. Malfoy smirked. Following the direction of his new teacher's huge, fat hand, Draco turned to face the class, all of whom were still staring. Draco sighed, and scanned the room for a free seat.

It was a rather small class, no more than a dozen, which was fine enough, but the seating arrangements were less than desirable. The twelve desks were arranged in pairs, meaning that Draco would be forced to sit in the one seat remaining. Scanning the faces, Draco spotted a few Slytherins in his year, none he knew well, a handful of Ravenclaws, to be expected, one lone Hufflepuff, and… three Gryffindors. What else?Malfoy thought. Granger was anticipated, but how on earth did the Weasel and Potter get into the class?

Then, Malfoy discovered his seat, and dread over came him. His Potions' seat was right next to none other than "the Chosen One", the great and powerful Harry Potter. Seeing no way out, Draco steeled himself and walked towards his new seat. Potter, realizing what was going on, blanched in surprise and proceeded to glare at Draco as he approached. Draco hadn't the energy the glare back. He only stared straight ahead, and tried to play it cool. Slinging his knapsack over the chair easily, and plopping down next to Potter, Draco didn't fail to notice Granger and Weasley shooting apologetic glances at Potter. Draco smirked. They probably didn't figure he'd be stuck with me, Draco thought.

Though Draco was annoyed, he didn't want to start anything after what had happened the night previously. He just wanted to forget about that, but by the looks Potter was giving him, Draco could tell that Potter wasn't about to forget a thing. Draco took out his Potions equipment from his bag and set it up. He dipped his favorite quill in ink and began to take notes, all the while feeling Potter's eyes burning into the back of his scull. It made him tense and on edge. Draco tried to pay attention to Slughorn (he was doing a showing of various potions, with Granger running her mouth at every pause in his speech, of course), but the unending glare of Harry Potter was way too distracting. Finally, Draco put down his quill, a bit harder than he'd intended, so that the tip bent a bit. He said, under his breath:

"Will you p_lease_ quit with the bloody staring, Potter? You're going to go cross-eyed in another minute." Harry's eyebrows contracted in anger and he opened his mouth as if to retort, but before he could, Slughorn raised his voice and said:

"Now, class, you might have noticed that I have arranged your seats in pairs. Take a good look at the person you're sitting next to. This person is to be your Potions partner for the rest of the year!" Slughorn smiled confidently, pleased with himself. He watched as people across the room eyed their aforesaid "partners" apprehensively. Some seemed pleased, or at least indifferent to the person next to them, but others, especially a particular pair, seemed utterly horrified. The class waited in tense silence. Before really reacting, they wanted to be sure what a "Potions Partners" actually meant.

"Basically, your Potions Partner is meant to be a helper in your understanding of this subject," Slughorn said happily, "You shall offer assistance to one another in any regard, and you shall both participate in several paired assignments and projects. My hope is that you will learn by working off each other's mistakes and achievements. Perhaps, as is my hope, you will even form a strong friendship along the way!" Slughorn grinned and waited for the class's response.

It was immediate. Several people rolled their eyes, scoffed, and whispered things to those near them. Draco, though thoroughly appalled at the whole situation, decided to pretend it didn't bother him. He opened his Potions book and, by looking at him, one would think Draco was completely engrossed by it. He was really listening to Harry groan under his breath, and he was paying attention to Weasley (who in contrast to Harry seemed utterly thrilled with his position), Potter, and Granger exchange more cryptic looks. Draco resolved not to say anything until he had to.

At the front of the classroom, Slughorn nodded. He still appeared perfectly content, Draco noted, despite the class's response. Draco wondered what in hell was wrong with him.

"Alright, class!" Slughorn said enthusiastically, "I have thought long and hard about your first group assignment. I toiled and toiled over it, and one day, it came to me in an epiphany_._" Slughorn paused dramatically, his hands in midair, as if grasping at something. Then, he smiled at them.

"What I want is for you to bond with your new partners. What potion is better for that than the rather obscure, but marvelous…. _Amiradus_!" With a flourish, he pulled a small vile of yellow, slightly glittery potion from his inside coat pocket. The class just stared at him blankly, but it didn't faze him.

"Can anyone tell me what this very special potion does?" he asked eagerly. Granger, of course, shot her hand in the air so fast Draco wouldn't have been surprised if she tore a few shoulder ligaments. Seeing as she was the only one who volunteered, Slughorn called on her.

"Amiradus is a potion that, when taken, produces intense feelings of goodwill and content for the drinker," she recited.

"Very good" Slughorn said, as if surprised, "Miss…?"

"Granger, sir."

"I shall have to keep an eye out for you, Miss Granger," said Slughorn, "Well done. Ten points to Gryffindor." Draco frowned. The old walrus liked _her_, of all people, more than him? Was he going senile? It was either that or… well.

The Dark Lord is hardly even out in the open and this is starting already, Draco thought as the reason for Slughorn's behavior suddenly came to him. Draco tried not to let it bother him. After all, Draco's father always said that people like Slughorn, and that Granger, would be nothing compared to them when the Dark Lord rose to power once again. Slughorn continued:

"Yes, as Miss Granger so kindly informed us, Amiradus puts you in a swell mood. But it does more than that. When taken with another person, Amiradus has special _bonding _properties." People around the room were smirking and snorting, but Slughorn ignored them. "Take Amiradus with a partner, and you will feel any hostility and bad feelings towards them melt away like that!" he said, and he snapped his fingers for emphasis. He laughed and said, "Well, at least as long as the potion lasts. Think of it as an icebreaker potion. With no inhibitions and all good feelings, you'll be very open to wonderful conversation and you'll be getting along swimmingly in no time!"

The class held its breath collectively. They knew what had to come next. Sure enough:

"Everyone, turn your textbooks to page five hundred and three. Today, we are making Amiradus! It is the perfect potion for today's first class, and a rather difficult one at that, if I do say so myself. But, between you and your partner, I am confident in your ability to brew Amiradus successfully." Slughorn paused, as if expectant.

"Well," he said in a moment, "Get on with it then! Oh, and I nearly forgot. I will be checking your potions (1 vile for each pair) at twenty minutes until the end of class. If your potion is deemed acceptable, you will be sampling it." There was a collective murmur, and those who had started gathering supplies stopped in their tracks. _Sample _a potion? Draco though incredulously. Slughorn chuckled.

"Don't look so scared! It's perfectly safe. I have been brewing Amiradus for years, and I will be supervising. As long as you don't taste it when it's half-brewed," he laughed at his little joke, "Side effects will be little to nonexistent. Also, best potion in the class wins a bottle of Liquid Luck, if that inspires you at all." There was another pause. "Well, GO!"

The class sprung into action. The prospect of winning Felix Felicis certainly changed things, of course. People were starting to get enthused, competitive. Newly anointed partners shuffled for scales and cauldrons, hearts eager for the prize. So what if they had to partake in making and being force-fed happy potion? It was ludicrous, really, this idea of "bonding" the old walrus had pulled out of his arse, but when the end result was lucky potion, students were willing bend over backwards to get it.

Everyone, that is, except a certain pair of students located in the back of the classroom, who were sitting a good four feet from each other, staring resolutely in opposite directions. Listening to the others buzzing about around them, chatting and getting a good start, Draco found the tension increasingly unbearable. Out of the corner of his eye, Draco saw Potter raise his hand. Draco turned around, startled by the sudden movement of his previously innate counterpart. Potter only glanced briefly at him, and then he called out: "Professor!", waving his hand some more. Slughorn looked up from where he sat as his desk and stared inquisitively at him.

"Harry, m'boy, do you have a question about the assignment?" Harry shook his head, putting his hand back down by his side.

"No, not exactly, sir. I was just wondering if it could be possible to switch partners?" Upon hearing this, Draco exhaled with a huff, stunned. His silence was officially broken.

"I didn't even do anything, you prat!" Draco exclaimed angrily, jumping to his feet. Once there, everyone starring at him, Draco felt immediately self-conscious. Why in hell did he get so angry just then? He wondered. It wasn't as if he _wanted_ to brew up a potion to "bond" with Potter. Slughorn clucked his tongue in an incredibly irritating way.

"Now, now, Mr. Malfoy, there is no need for that sort of language. Five points from Slytherin. In answer to your inquiry, Mr. Potter, I am afraid not. If you were to get a partner change, everyone else would want their partner changed, now wouldn't they? And I don't want it to seem as if I'm playing _favorites_, now do I, Harry?" Slughorn winked and chuckled at him. Harry, with a tight close-lipped smile, responded:

"No, professor, I suppose not. It's perfectly fine."

"Wonderful, m'boy, wonderful. And you might want to try a bit of that potion. It'll help with any… er – problems you and Mr. Malfoy there might have." Slughorn grinned at the two of them, and though neither looked any more pleased than when he started talking, he looked quite happy with himself.

Draco had sat back down, deflated. With nothing left to do, he said:

"Let's just get the bloody thing over with, Potter." Harry finally looked up and met Draco's eyes, one dark eyebrow raised in suspicion.

"What are you getting at, Malfoy?" Draco sighed in frustration.

"I'm not getting at anything! What I'm saying is that we just have suck it up and deal with this shit-hole of a situation. I don't like it anymore than you do Potter, but face it, we're 'Potions Partners'. There's nothing either of can do about it. The longer you keep sulking, the less time we have to make this ridiculous potion. I don't know about you Potter, but I'm not really in the mood to fail this class. So shape up or ship out." Draco ended his grand speech, panting slightly. Potter was staring, eyes wide, and Draco felt satisfied before Potter seemed to realize something, and laughed.

"What did you say?" he asked while laughing. Malfoy blanched.

"Are you really as dumb as you look, Potter?! Did you not just hear everything I said?! I said that -- "

"No, no!" Potter interrupted, laughing still harder, "I got that part. I just mean, towards the end, you said 'shape up or ship out'. Isn't that a muggle expression?" Malfoy flushed embarrassedly. Was it really? He scanned his memory for where he'd heard that. _Where_ had he heard that?

"Um, I mean – I…I heard it in an – er, train station. The muggles… passing by – in…London," Draco stammered awkwardly. Potter was staring at him, laughing under his breath. It made Draco a bit angry, and he collected himself.

"It doesn't matter, anyway," he said in clipped tones, "Can we please simply get to work now Potter?" But Harry continued to chuckle, and Draco kind of wanted to strangle him.

"Who would've thought I'd see the day when Malfoy stutters like an idiot and quotes muggle lines?" Potter said sarcastically. The anger that had faded in Potter's previous amusement was back, full throttle. Draco told himself to stay calm and take slow, easy breaths. He knew more fighting would just lose them time.

"I may have 'quoted muggles lines', but this one did fit in with what I was attempting to say. Did that part of it make it through your thick skull?" Draco said, though with the least amount of hostility he could.

"Oh, do you mean the part where practically begged me to help you with your potions work?" Potter responded scathingly.

"Can we just be serious for a moment!" Draco shouted, again earning the stares of several. He was really getting tired of this. He brought his fingers to his temples and closed his eyes, blocking Harry out. Much sooner than he'd have liked, though, there was an insistent tapping at his shoulder. He opened his eyes and stared at Potter silently, as if to say "What now?", but he was surprised to discover Harry's face perfectly straight.

"Alright, Malfoy," he said. Now it was Draco's turn to say "What?"

"If you really want to be serious about this whole 'partners' business, I'll be serious. I was pissed off at you. I'm usually pissed off at you. I didn't think you would take this seriously, in all honesty."

"I do care about my marks, Potter. I'm not a crap student. Quite the contrary, actually," Draco said. It was the truth, or it had been until this past summer, when he'd gotten his mark. Still, he'd promised his father he'd continue to maintain his grades at school.

"Yeah, that's all this would really be about: school work. We could go on hating each other just as always," said Harry.

"Hmm…sounds like a deal," Draco held out his hand, "Shake on it?" Harry stared Draco's pale hand for a short moment, and Draco was suddenly brought back to five years previously, on the Hogwarts train compartment. Draco felt a sickening sense of déjà vu, but he held his composure. He felt strangely afraid.

This time, however, it was different. Harry grasped Draco's hand firmly. Draco noticed the calloused texture of Harry's hand. It was strong too; the hand of a fighter. Once, twice, three pumps, and their hands parted.

"It's a deal." The corners of Harry's mouth rose up in the beginnings of a smile, and Draco was struck by the idea that this was possibly the first time Harry had smiled at him genuinely. Before he could get too caught up in that, though, Harry glanced at his watch, and cursed loudly.

"Glad we agree on that," Draco said in response, "So…let's get on with it! We might still be able to scrape up a half decent potion in time if we work our arses off."

* * *

By the time Slughorn called for everyone to bring up their potion, both Draco and Harry were sweating from their rushed efforts to make Amiradus. Due largely to some helpful comments Harry had found inscribed in his second-hand textbook, they'd cut down on time significantly. Plus, also with the help of the textbook, their potion turned out shockingly like the sample Amiradus Slughorn showed them. Draco felt only slightly guilty when classmates started shooting them nasty looks for doing in half the time what they had slaved over all period. But, he told himself to salvage his conscience, they didn't have Harry Potter as a Potions Partner, and so they didn't deserve the magic secondhand textbook. Who knew something pre-owned could be so useful?

Draco hurried to ladle some sparkly yellow potion into the small glass bottle Harry held out for him. When it was filled, Harry hastily sealed it with a cork and ran up to Slughorn's desk, where all the other groups' potions sat, waiting for Harry and Draco's to join them. Slughorn, who'd waited politely as they rushed about, paused considerately as Harry kneeled over, gasping for breath, and as Draco wiped the sleeve of his robe across his hot forehead. They looked quite disheveled. Harry, with his hair sticking up in all directions, his tie undone, and his shirt stained with some unknown purple substance, and Draco, with his face somehow got completely coated in black grime. The class observed the pair, slightly annoyed, slightly entertained. Finally, Slughorn spoke:

"Now, class! Let's see these potions!" Slughorn turned to the various labeled glass tubes on his desk and began to sort them, humming some toneless unidentified tune. The class watched apprehensively. A lot of people wanted that Felix Felices. Draco included himself in that group, but he and Harry had gotten such a late start. Then again, he thought as he looked as the various containers of Amiradus, not everybody's looked like theirs. A few of them were yellow, but they didn't sparkle. One looked like someone pissed in it. One group's (how they got into NEWT-level Potions Draco had no idea) looked like cement. The only potion that looked similar to Harry and Draco's was one Draco assumed to be Granger's (and Weasley's, but he definitely didn't do anything). It was bright yellow and glittery, like theirs, but the texture was a bit different. Granger's was bubbling a bit. Draco felt himself beginning to get excited, but he told himself not to get his hopes up. He couldn't know for sure until…

"Well, well, WELL, class!" Slughorn exclaimed, "We have a clear winner! Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy, good job! Just like your mother, Harry, it's Lily coming out in you." Draco was by now hardly surprised by Slughorn's enthusiasm towards Harry and his coldness towards him. Much more exciting was that they actually won the Felix Felices. The possibilities opened up endless before Draco's eyes.

Wanting to share this moment with his Potions Partner, Draco looked over at Harry. To Draco's surprise, Harry was glancing downwards, the tiny bottle of Felix Felices clutched in his hand. He looked like he felt… guilty. Draco wondered why until he looked around them. Everyone was glaring daggers. Of course they were. Draco wanted to tell them all: "It was Potter's book. We couldn't control what someone wrote in it. That is not cheating." He decided to just shrug it off. It wasn't as if he cared what they thought anyway. Still, Harry looked like he did.

"Okay boys!" Slughorn suddenly exclaimed, "Since your potion is the only one suitable for a taste test…" Draco noticed Potter look up with a snap.

"Oh no…" he groaned under his breath. Draco could understand the reaction. He had forgotten what was coming as well. An ominous feeling clenched his gut. Meanwhile, Slughorn was patting Potter amiably on the back.

"Oh yes, m'boy!" he revealed two glass beakers filled with yellow potion from behind his back, "Bottoms up!"

"Do we _have _to, Professor?" Potter said in a falsely polite way.

"Indeed you do, Harry. It'll do you a world of good, believe me!" Slughorn again shoved his beakers in their faces, and, reluctantly, they took them. Now, Slughorn was staring at them expectantly.

Draco met Potter's eye. There was a hard look of resolution in them. They would have to do it. They had no choice. Harry nodded to Draco, his dark hair falling into his face as he did so. Harry pushed it back impatiently. He looked back at Draco, and mouthed the words: "One… two…." As Potter announced "THREE", Draco braced himself and flipped back the potion, his eyes shut tight. His last thought, "well, this is bound to be sufficiently awkward", was lost in the peculiar feeling that suddenly overcame him.

It was one of the strangest sensations Draco had ever experienced. The potion had felt and tasted like water going down, but almost immediately afterwards, a sort of lightness began to spread inside him. It started in his gut and then spread slowly outwards, leaving a tingling feeling in the tips of his fingers and toes. He felt, literally, as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. The world itself seemed brighter. He was more at ease then he had been in years. Gosh, he thought, where has this been all my life!

Draco turned about himself, digesting the classroom in its newfound light. His body was loose, and his mind leaped comfortably from one thought to the next. Why there's Professor Slughorn, he thought as he spun idly on his heel. How plump and jolly he now seemed. And there were his lovely classmates, staring at him with bemused expressions on their faces. Ah, what intelligent curiosity they possessed! And over there were Granger and Weasley. Why was it he didn't like them? Each thought appeared in his head like a new color in a wide spectrum of light, and each quickly melted to the next. Coming full circle, completely at ease, he landed facing Harry.

A sudden jolt went through Draco's hazy mind. Harry looked somehow… different. He, like Draco, sported a dazed, goofy grin on his face, and he was waving enthusiastically to anyone who caught his eye. Draco's stood still for a moment, and he stared at Harry, his head cocked to one side. Draco had known Harry for six years, but it felt as if he was seeing him for the first time.

Through no conscious decision of his own, Draco started to walk up to Harry. He vaguely heard Slughorn say something about "watch this" and "see what happens". Draco reached Harry, whose back was turned away from him, and tapped him on the shoulder.

Harry whizzed around, grinning. Seeing Draco there, the expression on his face suddenly changed. It was a look of complete befuddlement that almost made Draco want to laugh. They stared at each other for a few moments, and then Harry said:

"Hello, Malfoy."

"Good Morning, Potter. How are you doing?"

"Rather fantastic, actually," Harry responded. Draco nodded slowly. Neither had broken eye contact yet. Draco had a sudden thought, and for once he didn't hesitate to voice it.

"Your eyes are very green," he said. Harry stared at him, puzzled.

"Thanks, I suppose."

"They're interesting. I like them."

"Really?"

"Yes. Blue eyes are sort of generic."

"Yeah."

They must've stood there for another five minutes, just staring at each other, increasingly puzzled. Draco couldn't understand it. The animosity he usually had for Harry wasn't there. It had evaporated, along with their history and Draco's current stresses. Everyone else in the room had disappeared. To Draco, there was just Harry, standing in front of him, staring.

Then, the bell rang, signaling the end of class. Draco and Harry, as well as about half the classroom, who had been watching them intently, jumped half a foot into the air. Draco blinked several times, though the light hadn't been affected at all. He was still in a complete daze. Slughorn walked up to the two of them, grinning, and clapped them both on the shoulder, causing a second convulsion for each of them. Slughorn appeared not to notice.

"Well done today, class! Well done! Homework is four inches on the formula and effects of Amiradus," he turned to Harry and Draco as the rest of class started to file out, "As for you two, I am very impressed. Harry, m'boy, I knew I would see great things from you!" Draco barely registered what he was saying, but it did occur to him that getting from place to place in this state might be rather difficult. As if answering his thought, Slughorn said:

"Don't fret, boys," he said as they stared at him blankly, "The potion will wear off in no time. Until then, I'm confident you can manage just fine. Good luck!" With that, he patted them on their shoulders once more. He turned around and strolled through a door into his office, humming.

Draco, still buzzing with the effects of the potion, just stood there for a few moment, rocking back and forth on his heels. He tried to organize his swimming thoughts. The potion prevented him from feeling angry or annoyed as he would usually in this situation, so all Draco was left to work with was confusion, the ridiculous elation the potion caused, and the vague knowledge that he had a Transfiguration class in 15 minutes.

Draco glanced at Harry, who had wondered off to sit at a desk and was now intensely spinning a bronze knut, watching it whirl like it was the most fascinating thing in the world. Draco thought about going off to play with him, but before he could take a step, Ron and Hermione were there. Harry smiled up at them amiably. With worried expressions on their faces, they lifted Harry to his feet. Granger pulled at his hand.

"Come on Harry, we have DADA next," Weasley said, "Come on…" With Granger leading Harry forward by his hand and Weasley pushing him from the back, they managed to get him out the door. Harry glanced back briefly at Draco as they left, and the last he heard of the three was Granger:

"Honestly! How on earth does Slughorn expect him to get around in this condition?"

"Bloody ridiculous, if you ask me," responded Weasley.

And then they were gone.

* * *

_I'm so sorry this took so long, guys, but I've been really busy with school work and such. Plus, I initially wrote this and the next chapter as one, so as you can imagine, it took longer. Hope you like it! Lots of exciting things to come! Please review! _


	5. A Lot of Staring

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything but the plot and characters of my own design.**

Several hours later, Draco slumped into a library chair, incredibly exhausted. He would have liked nothing more than to lay his head down on the polished wooden table and sleep through his free period. But considering that at mid-day he had four inches of Potions homework, an review essay on Dementors, five rune translations, and a brand new spell to practice, that would be impossible. With a sigh, Draco took out a roll of parchment, his quill and ink, and a stack of heavy books from his knapsack. Dipping the green-feathered quill in ink, he started to work.

Since the Potions fiasco, Draco's day had only gone downhill. After Potions, he had managed to get himself through the door (with much effort and crashing into things) and into the hall. There he stumbled around for quite a bit. He kept bumping into various students rushing to their classes, and quite a few of them yelled at him or shoved him back. When they saw the crazy grin on his face though, they doubled back and left. Eventually Draco heard a bell ring off in the distance, and it registered somewhere in his mind that this was why the hallways had suddenly grown empty. He had no clue where he was. Luckily, Madam Pomfrey had been in the halls running an errand. Initially, she scolded him for being in the halls after the start of class, but she soon realized the state of his condition. Once she determined that Draco was not in fact drunk or high on something, which seemed likely, she bustled him off the Infirmary, muttering: "…giving students unspecified potions during class, despicable…". He was given an antidote for the potion and sent on his way.

As Draco walked, his head slowly cleared. The insane happiness faded a little with each step. Like water leaking though a crack in a dam, feelings of deep familiarity to Draco – resentment, anxiety, hate – seeped into his head, until, with a flood like the dam breaking completely, the happiness dissolved completely. A wave of dizziness washed over Draco, and he had to sit down. He lowered himself onto the cold marble floor, clutching at his hair with his hands. Bloody hell, my head hurts, he thought, over and over.

The pain gradually receded, and with a sigh, Draco continued on his way to class, somewhat more rapidly than before, since he knew now he was already half an hour late. And so the day continued. Draco found it hard to concentrate in class, though. There was a dull throbbing in his head, and he couldn't get Potter out of his thoughts. They had both been acting like loonies, but Draco had had a feeling something real changed between them in the fog of the potion. He couldn't figure it out. He was actually a bit afraid about seeing Potter again, now that they were both sane. He wondered what would happen. All the thoughts about Potter made his head hurt even more, so he decided to stop thinking them.

Now, hunched over his homework in the library, Draco was glad for the distraction of work. He was no Hufflepuff; he didn't like essays and rune translations, but once he got started on them, the sentences and illustrations and symbols were a perfect diversion from his life. He would fly from one assignment to the next, secretly glad for the work, because it gave him an excuse to avoid his thoughts. As Draco wrote, he became aware of someone staring at him.

Moving as little as he could, Draco turned his head and looked in the direction he felt the eyes. Sure enough, he looked just in time to catch someone duck back behind the bookshelf where they now stood in shadow, two shelves away from where Draco sat. Thinking whoever it was would go away, he turned back to his work. But they didn't go away. He could sense the person there, lurking for whatever goddamn reason. Five minutes. Ten. Annoyance bubbled up in him until he felt fit to burst. He was really getting sick of all the staring today. He peered furiously into the shadows.

"Will whoever's there stop bloody staring!" he exploded, "I know you're there, so don't bother hiding." There was a pause, and then a girl emerged. She was tall and dark-haired and blushing profusely.

"Oh. I- I'm sorry, I just – "He cut the girl off.

"It's rude to stare, you know," he said harshly, "Didn't your mother ever tell you that?" The girl shut down at his words, staring at her feet and shrugging. Her face was still bright red.

"Well aren't you going to say something? Answer me!" he shouted, standing up.

"I said I'm sorry, alright!" she yelled, looking up finally. There was anger and hurt in her eyes.

"Shhhhh!" Draco and the girl spun around to see Madam Pince glaring at them both. They muttered apologies and the librarian turned away slowly.

Abruptly, Draco flopped back down in his seat, the fight in him snuffed out like a candle. He felt doubly exhausted. The girl was staring at him again, this time looking confused. Draco felt bad for yelling at her. The girl hadn't really done anything wrong, after all, and it wasn't fair that he'd taken out his frustration on her. He sighed and looked up at her.

"I'm sorry for yelling at you," he said calmly, "I'm just having a really lousy day." He waited for a response, and when she didn't say anything, he gestured tiredly to the chair opposite him.

"You can sit, if you want." The girl still looked perplexed, but she pulled out the heavy library hair and sat down on the old upholstery. There was a moment of silence, and Draco took the opportunity to look at the girl more closely. She was pale with dark brown hair that just brushed the tips of her shoulders and defined cheekbones. Her eyes were large and silvery and they were framed by black glasses.

"So, what's your name?" Draco asked her, more obligatory than genuinely wanting to know. Her eyes snapped up to his face, wide and searching.

"It's Julianne. Julianne McLaulin." He nodded.

"Are you Irish?" he asked, referring to her surname. Julianne nodded, smiling a bit.

"Yeah, on my father's side. I'm a big fan of the Canons." Draco laughed.

"You've got to be kidding! I mean…the Chudley Cannons? Really? " he said jokingly. She shrugged, grinning.

"Ah, that's what everyone says." Draco was glad she didn't take the jibe on her Quidditch team personally. Draco liked Quidditch, but he found the way so many people freaked out about it sort of trivial.

"So, you're a Slytherin, right Draco?" He was ready to respond, but then the question struck home.

"Wait - how do you know my name? I never told you it." Upon hearing this, Julianne's eyes grew wide, and she flushed pink. She opened her mouth as if to say something, then closed it again. She shrugged.

"I don't know. Heard it around, I guess," Julianne said quietly, again not making eye contact. Draco nodded, and though he wasn't entirely satisfied with her answer, he decided to let it go.

"Yes," he said, "I'm a Slytherin. Why? Does that bother you?" Draco wasn't invested enough to really care about Julianne's response, but he was curious to see what she had to say. She met his gaze again.

"No, I was just wondering about it, is all," she said carefully, and then more strongly: "Personally, I don't believe in judging a person based upon their house. Sure, it's great that your house is like your 'family' and all, but for me, an individual always comes before the group. Judging people collectively like that just takes a lot of the mystery out of life, don't you think?" Draco nodded again, more slowly. This girl was a piece of work.

"And what house are _you _in?" Draco asked her, grinning. She rolled her eyes, amused.

"Ravenclaw," she revealed grudgingly, "Does that bother _you_?" She smiled.

"No, not at all," Draco said. Certainly not as much as I thought it might have, he thought.

"6th year?" he asked her.

"No, 4th," Julianne responded automatically. She blanched, and quickly added: "But I'm very physically and emotionally mature for my age. I know tons of 6th years. Even a few 7th years!" She gave a little laugh. "Yup, nothing to worry about here." Draco raised his eyebrows a fraction. He didn't really care what grade she was in, she seemed nice enough. He wondered why she had reacted that way. It made no sense. Then again, he thought with an internal smile, there were girls for you. He couldn't understand how most guys could stand them at all for long periods of time.

Draco, not knowing what else to do, just nodded and smiled at Julianne, who was eying him frantically.

"Yeah," he said, "Sure." Julianne smiled, visibly relieved, though for what reason was lost on Draco.

"So, why were you staring before?" he asked causally. He didn't want to spook her again. However, this question seemed to bother her a lot less than what she had said before. She considered it a moment, and then in all seriousness responded:

"I find you interesting." Draco, in spite of himself, felt his face grow hot. What on earth was that supposed to mean? Draco fingered the sleeve of his left arm self-consciously. She couldn't possibly know.

"How do you mean?" he asked, his voice coming out harsher than he'd intended. Julianne frowned at his reaction.

"I didn't mean it in a bad way," she said, and he stared at her, not believing, "I promise." She looked straight at him as she said it and her eyes shone. Draco sighed. He smiled at her tightly, and she relaxed. Draco knew he was overreacting. He'd been so paranoid lately. Then again, Draco thought, nobody who knew the truth could say he didn't have a reason to be.

"I believe you," he said, "And sorry, again. Bad day." She peered at him concernedly.

"I think you should relax more, Draco." He almost laughed.

"Well, sometimes that's not so easy."

"Yeah, I get it," Julianne said, "Sometimes you just feel like the whole world's out to get you, and nothing you ever do will be good enough."

"Yeah," he said.

"Like the world is an enormous black hole that just sucks everything it can out of you and leaves you alone and empty in the blackness." He stared at her.

"That's…um," he stammered. Julianne laughed, breaking the tension.

"I write a lot of poetry," she said. Draco smiled slightly.

"I can tell," he said, "You know, you really don't come off as the depressed type." He was half joking, but she stopped smiling immediately.

"That's the thing," she said seriously, "I'm not. I'm actually a pretty optimistic person. I take the shit life throws at me and twist it around so that I learn from it. You come out a much happier person that way." Draco smiled at her quizzically. Every time he thought he had something pinned something down with Julianne, she just spun it around on him. She certainly was a tough person to figure out.

"Woah," Draco said, "Nice language." She laughed.

"Oh, you'd be surprised."

"How come I've never seen you around?" he asked. Julianne smirked.

"Well, aside from classes, I don't go out much. Let's just say I'm by no means the most popular person at Hogwarts." Draco nodded.

"That's okay," he said, "Neither am I."

"Most people just find me too… out-there. They don't get to know me," Julianne continued. Draco found himself really surprised how easy she was to talk to. He felt like he was being himself. It was an odd feeling. Julianne looked at her watch and then back up at Draco.

"I have to go," she said regretfully, "I've got Potions next, way down in the Dungeons." Draco's mind flashed back to his Potions class earlier, and he struggled to push the memory out.

"Good luck, Slughorn's a bit of an ass." She looked worried for a second, and then shook it off.

"Thanks, I guess," she said. Julianne stood up, smoothed her robes, and grabbed a purple book bag from behind the library shelf where she'd hidden. She turned back to Draco.

"It was really nice meeting you, Draco," she said, smiling, "See you around, I suppose."

"Yeah. See you around." She grinned, waved briefly, and walked away. Draco turned back to his forgotten work, his thoughts whirling.

* * *

_Hope you liked it! This chapter is dedicated to my friend Julianne, whose birthday was a couple of weeks ago. Review! Review! _


	6. A Flirting Overdose

_Disclaimer: I own nothing, aside from my own ideas, though I wish I did_

_Hey! I'm sorry this took a while, but it's been super busy at school. Thank you everyone so much for reading and reviewing. It makes me so happy, and keeps me wanting to write more. Lots of exciting things happen in this chapter, and there's much more to come! _

Draco found himself back at Malfoy Manor, in his room. Somebody was knocking at the door. When Draco didn't move from where he was sitting, Draco's father banged the door down and stomped into the room, like a great, fearsome giant. Lucius was yelling at Draco, his words incomprehensible. Still, they made Draco, sitting on the bed, feel very sad. Then, all of a sudden, Lucius began to morph. One second he was the tall blond man with the cold face Draco so innately recognized and the next second the face elongated, the nose caved into the head, becoming slit-like, the pupils narrowed. Draco was screaming. He tried to bury himself under the covers of his bed, but as soon as he tried they disappeared along with the bed, and Draco was sprawled out across the floor. He shut his eyes tight and opened then again. He looked around the room, anxiously, but the Dark Lord was no where to be seen. Then, he felt hands clasp his shoulders from behind. He spun around and saw not one, but two people: Potter and Julianne. They were smiling sweetly at him, but to Draco, it seemed almost sinister. "Draco," they said in unison. Draco…Draco…Draco.

"Draco…" Someone was nudging his arm. He groaned. "Draco…" The nudging became more persistent, a sharp jabbing of the person's fingers into his forearm. "Draco, wake UP!"

Draco, startled by the sudden loud noise through his sleepy haze, sat up sharp. Seeing who it was, his expression went slack again and he let his head fall on his hand. He grunted, waiting for the girl across from him to say something. Pansy Parkinson, seeming satisfied with her work, smiled at him.

"You fell asleep," she said. Cleary, Draco thought, but didn't say. They were in the Slytherin common room. Draco had been working on the mounds of schoolwork his teachers had given him, acting on the notion that if he worked late into the night, he would have less schoolwork at other times, and more time to do, well… what he needed to do. Apparently his body had had other ideas in mind.

"How long have I been asleep?" he wondered aloud. Pansy's eyes glinted.

"I'm not sure. You were here when I got back from the Great Hall. You missed supper."

"What time is it now?" he asked.

"It's almost half past eleven," she said, and he groaned again, "I would've woken you, but you seemed really tired. No one was bothering you, so I just let you be. You looked so…peaceful." Draco sighed. Though he knew she was right in the respect that he was exhausted, he also knew he couldn't afford to waste the kind of time that he just did. He wanted to kick himself.

"Well, then, why wake me up now? Why not just leave me here in the common room?" he looked around the empty room, "It seems everyone else has." Pansy's eyes flashed again.

"That's just it," she said quickly, "There's nobody here. I'm the only one. We could, I don't know… hang out?" What she said was a perfectly ordinary thing to say, Draco thought. They knew each other well enough. She had, in the past, helped him out in terms of schoolwork, and backed him up in fights with Potter. Still, the way she said it made Draco nervous.

"Just…hang out? At half past eleven at night?" he asked, laughing slightly as if the thought was silly. Pansy smiled, and Draco's false smile faltered.

To Draco's surprise, Pansy stood up then. He half expected her to retreat to the girls' dormitories, though he hadn't a logical explanation why she would. Instead, she walked slowly, still smiling slightly, around the black square table at which Draco sat. She continued walking until she stood behind him. She draped her arm over his shoulder, making him tense up.

"We don't have to _just _hang out," she said, speaking softly into Draco's ear. He shivered. She was drawing small circles on Draco's sleeve with her fingertips. Draco, realizing what she was getting at, felt a feeling of dread wash over him.

As carefully as he could, Draco reached up and removed her hand from his shoulder. He stood up and turned to face her, but quickly realized how close together that made them. Pansy seemed to take that as a sign of encouragement.

"You're face is all crinkled from lying on your books for so long," she said, and she brought her arms up and wrapped them around his neck.

"Oh, really?" he said, using the line to stall for time, time he could use to look for an escape route. Pansy meanwhile seemed either to enjoy his discomfort or be completely oblivious to it.

"It's cute," she said, and Draco felt himself flush, "You're cute." She started to lean forward. Oh Merlin, Draco thought.

"Um, Pansy…" he said, his voice coming out raspy. He cleared his throat. Pansy, momentarily distracted, smiled at him expectantly, arms tight around his neck. He slowly detached them and backed away until his lower back was pressing against the square table.

"What's wrong?" she asked. Draco sighed.

"Nothing," he huffed out, more harshly than he'd intended to, "It's just… you're right, I am really tired. I think I'll go back up to the dormitories." She looked disappointed, and then she advanced a few step towards him. Almost involuntarily, Draco flinched in the opposite direction. Pansy, noticing this, scowled.

"Fine, then," she said curtly, "Goodnight Draco." She spun sharply on her heel and stormed up to the girls' dormitories, not hesitating to slam the door as she went upstairs.

With her finally gone, Draco walked the few steps to the black leather sofa in the common room and collapsed. He was filled with an overwhelming sense of relief, but he knew it was only temporary. Pansy Parkinson was one of the most stubborn and relentless people he knew, and she hadn't stopped flirting with him since they got on the train. Draco didn't know what it was that made the difference. She had never cared about him before. Draco wondered if he looked different this year. I've gotten a bit taller, he thought. Or maybe it was his attitude on the Hogwarts train. Draco now thoroughly regretted everything about that trip: Boasting about the Dark Lord, Potter. And, now that he thought of it, laying his head in her lap was a really dumb-arse move. No wonder she's acting like this, he thought. He groaned into the couch. She'd probably considered it romantic, even though his thoughts at the time were far from that. How was he supposed to know that what was and wasn't appropriate for a platonic relationship? It wasn't as if he'd done enough flirting on his own time to tell.

Draco sat up, rubbing his eyes. He was still tired as hell, but he no longer felt like going to the dormitories. He got up and walked back to the black table. His schoolwork lay crumpled from where he'd slept on it. He laughed humorlessly. He actually fell asleep doing homework. Pathetic. He'd have to check later for paper-cuts on his face.

Draco, resolving not to attempt the work again tonight, stuffed it all back in his bag, which was abandoned on the green carpeted floor. An idea struck him. Well, he thought, I have to get started on that sometime, why not now? He dropped his bag back on the floor, intending to retrieve it later, and took out his wand from the side pocket.

Walking towards the green velvet curtain that marked the exit to the common room, his tired brain seemed to awaken and kick into warp speed. He pulled back the curtain, tapped on the wall three times with his hand, and was granted leave.

He stepped out into the corridor, careful not to make any noise. Draco figured he would probably make a habit of these trips in the future, so he'd better learn how not to get caught. He paused, going over what he knew.

The room was on the 7th floor, that much he was sure of from the previous year when he'd been on Umbridge's Inquisitorial Squad. He didn't know exactly how to get into the room, though. The last time he'd been there they'd just sort of…bombed their way in, which would pretty much be out of the question in this case. It was supposed to be a room equipped for the seeker's needs. Draco knew what he needed. He'd been briefed upon all that, what his task was, before coming to school. He'd even been to Borgin and Burkes see the thing, well, one of them anyway. He had to fix the other one, and he knew just where it was.

Draco set off down the corridor, as swiftly as he could without making much noise. He came to a three way fork in the hall and was about to turn left when he saw someone up ahead, walking in his direction. Thinking quickly, he dove behind the large tapestry of a serpent that hung close to where he was standing. He tried to slow his breathing and he hoped that he wasn't seen.

When the sound of his heart beating in his ears quieted, Draco realized that he couldn't hear any footsteps. He peered cautiously around the drapery.

For a few seconds, he thought the person had gone away, but then, upon closer inspection, he spotted someone leaning against the wall of the right fork path, facing away from Draco. Draco could tell from the silhouette that it was a man. He had his arms crossed. Draco thought he might be waiting for someone.

Then, the man spoke.

"Hey," he greeted, turning in the direction further down the right path, out of Draco's line of visibility, "How come you wanted to meet down here?" Draco's breath caught in his throat. He knew that voice. It was Potter.

"I needed to tell you something," said a girl's voice that Draco vaguely recognized, "And I wanted to tell you in private. There's no one we know down here. Or," she amended, "At least no one we _like_." Draco scowled as he heard Potter laugh.

"True," he said, "What was it you wanted to tell me?" There was a pause. Draco supposed he could just walk out and reveal himself to them, figuring they couldn't get him in any real trouble, but Draco wasn't in the mood for a fight. Plus, Potter was the last person he wanted to face right now, after Potions class. He decided he would stay until they were gone, and then go on about his business. He stood very still and listened.

"Dean Thomas and I broke up today," the girl said. Another pause. Draco found himself getting frustrated he couldn't see either of their faces.

"Oh… I'm sorry."

"Don't be," she said, "Honestly."

"Well, then what _did_ you want to tell me, Ginny?" Ginny _Weasley_, Draco acknowledged. He recognized the name from Quidditch. Potter just can't get seem to get enough of his bloody Weasleys, Draco thought. Still, he found himself somewhat intrigued by the conversation. For no reason that Draco could figure out, he was curious to see what their meeting was about. He continued to listen, un-noticed by either Ginny or Harry.

"Well," Ginny said, "It _is _that I broke up with Dean, actually. It's just that I'm not sad about it." She didn't sound sad, Draco thought. She sounded kind of pleased, actually.

"Why not?" Harry asked slowly.

"Oh… I don't know. We just didn't go together, I suppose. We were always fighting."

"Yeah, I kind of noticed that," Harry said hesitantly. Ginny gave a sarcastic sort of laugh.

"Anybody would notice it. We were fine for a few months towards the end of 4th year, and we even stayed in touch a bit over last summer, but when it came down to it…" she trailed off.

"What?"

"We just weren't compatible. Last summer, it hit me like a bulldozer that I could never really be happy with him. The break-up is for the best."

"You're really not sad about it? At all?"

"Nope," said Ginny.

"Well… thanks for telling me and all, Ginny, I'm glad to be here for you, but… I still don't really get _why_ you're telling me. I mean, you could've just as easily told me in the Common Room. If you aren't upset about the break-up, why the big secret? We're meeting in the middle of the night in the bloody dungeons, for Merlin's sake!?" He laughed, but Draco could tell from his tone of voice he was getting rather frustrated with the situation. Draco heard the sound of a light footfall and assumed Ginny had taken a step closer to Harry.

"There's the thing. There is an actual reason I brought you down here, Harry," she laughed slightly, "You see…well, since Dean and I broke up…." She trailed off again into silence.

"Yes?"

"Alright, I'm just going to come right out and say it. I'm a Gryffindor, for crying out loud," she seemed to be saying this half to herself.

"Yes?" Harry prompted again.

"HarryIlikeyou."

"What was that?" Harry said stupidly. Ginny took a deep breath. Draco imagined her closing her eyes tight, steeling herself.

"Harry, I…like…you." There was a brief moment of silence. Draco's pulse was beating heavily in his neck.

"What? You mean as a friend?" Harry asked dumbly. Ginny sighed over-dramatically.

"No, not as a friend, Harry. I like you. Like that. I have for a long time. I figured that now that I broke up with Dean, we could…" she paused and when she spoke next, her voice was much less enthusiastic, "I don't know. I feel really stupid. You probably don't like me anyway and I've come and dragged you out here in the middle of the night and-"

"No," Harry said.

"What do you mean 'no'?" Ginny asked dejectedly. Draco heard heaver footsteps this time, and he knew Harry had moved closer to her. This thought made him uncomfortable, like he was intruding on something that he shouldn't.

"I do like you Ginny." Draco's breath caught in his throat.

"You do?" Ginny asked, "Seriously?"

"How could I not? Before this year, I'd always seen you as Ron's kid sister," Ginny almost growled and quickly Harry said, "But, now... I guess I've changed, or you've changed. You're great Ginny. You're really amazing. You're smart, funny, talented, beautiful. Any guy in this school would go for you." Draco was feeling a bit ill now, and found himself wishing he was somewhere else.

"You really think that? How come you never told me before?"

"This the first time I'm admitting to anybody, actually. Hermione sort of figured it out on her own, she's good with things like that. And also, well, I bet you of all people can imagine how Ron would react."

"Ugh," Ginny grunted, "Why must it always come down to my stupid brother?"

"He _is_ my best mate."

"I know. It just annoys me so much how he treats me like a child."

"He's your brother. He cares about you a lot."

"Yeah, but sometimes I just wish he'd stop breathing down my neck like a goddam Hungarian Horntail." She herself was breathing heavily after her exclamation, and Harry chuckled at her. The sound made Draco's stomach turn.

"So," Harry said after the pause, "What do we do now?" Oh Merlin, Draco thought.

"I don't know. I like you. You like me."

"Do you really?" Harry said quickly, "I know you had that schoolgirl crush on me for years, but Hermione said you'd gotten over it. Plus, you were dating Michael Corner, and then Dean…"

"Harry, do you really think I'd have gone to all this trouble if I didn't like you? Yes, for a while I thought I'd gotten over you, I figured I had no chance with you anyway, but… I guess I was wrong," she said, and then, "And you are so much better than those other boys. Trust me, you have only improved with age. Doesn't that answer your question of what we should do now?" Draco found himself cursing the fact that you couldn't apparate within Hogwarts grounds. He glanced back towards the way he came, and he reluctantly admitted that it would be impossible to move from behind the tapestry without them seeing or hearing him.

"So, what… are we dating now?" Potter asked.

"I guess we are."

"Are we going to tell anybody?"

"Why, do you not want to be seen with me in public?" Ginny said jokingly.

"Of course I do. I mean Ron. He's my best mate. I wouldn't be surprised if he cursed me to a pulp when he got word of this."

"Well, like you said," said Ginny, "He's your best mate. You've been through so much together. If there's anybody he trusts with his little sister, it's you."

"I hope so."

"It'll be fine. Trust me."

"I do," Potter said.

"We've been standing out here for a while."

"Yeah, I guess we have. Want to head back? Go to bed?" Draco, not realizing he'd been holding his breath, exhaled in relief. Then, Ginny said:

"No, I don't, actually. I was hoping you could prove to me just how much you like me." Draco wanted so much to get out of there before anything else happened, but he knew he had no choice but to stay lest he wanted to risk revealing himself.

"And how would I do that?" Potter said. Wow, Draco thought sarcastically, I know more about what's going on than he does.

"Oh, use your imagination," Ginny said. Harry seemed to have gotten the picture, as Draco heard more footsteps, a rustle, and then… nothing. Draco held his breath. He listened hard for a sound, any sound at all. Then, very quietly, he heard a gasp, a small thump, heaving breathing. Draco felt strangely as if his heart had stopped short, and he leaned his head back against the cold stone wall, trying to make himself breathe.

He wished he could just see them. That would be different. This way, it was left completely up to his imagination. Draco couldn't get the images out of his head, with the soundtrack he had. All he could see, even when he blinked hard, was Potter and that Weasley girl. He could see Potter leaning forward and touching his lips to hers. He could see the kiss gaining in intensity, them breaking apart for breath, their tongues intertwined, only to come back for more, desperate in the throes of passion. He could see Potter's arms snaking around her waist, pulling her closer to him. He could see Potter pushing her up against the wall, pressing against her as they kissed. He could see her raking her fingers through Potter's dark hair. He could see Potter's hands wandering, traveling lower, dipping underneath the hem of her blouse—

Draco stopped himself. He opened his eyes, listening again, and found the hall surprisingly silent. He peered out into the corridor once again.

They were gone. Draco had no idea how long he'd been standing there, drowning in the workings of his own mind. He stepped out from behind the tapestry. His head was so full of thoughts that all fears of being caught had vanished. He didn't much feel like going the Room of Requirement anymore. He played with the idea of going back to the Common Room (it was late, after all), but he didn't feel like doing that either.

All he knew was that he felt… angry. Angry at Potter, angry at Ginny, angry at Slughorn, his father and all the other bloody people who made his life a hell-hole. Suddenly, Draco knew what he wanted to do. He needed to forget, escape, and he needed to feel in control of his life, if only for a little while.

Acting on anger and impulse alone, he headed for the Hufflepuff common room.

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	7. A Late Night Escapade

Draco strode through the darkened corridors, turning corners sharply so that his heel squeaked against the floor. He knew the way by memory, and he could probably get there with his eyes closed. Draco climbed a couple flights of stairs, taking the steps two at a time in his rush. He didn't really care how much noise he was making. He thought of nothing but left, right, right, up…

Finally, panting slightly, he skidded to a stop in front of a peculiar looking window, located in a narrow hallway barely large enough for two people to stand shoulder-to-shoulder. The window was about the size of someone's head and circular, with a brass braided rim all the way around it. Looking out of the window, Draco could see a blue sky. The really strange thing about was that there are no blue skies at this time of night. Also, at the highest point of the window, there was an imprint of a badger, so small and plain that if you didn't know it was there, you wouldn't notice it at all.

Draco, who had been leaning against the wall, wanting to catch his breath before doing anything else, knew just what to do. Placing his wand tip lightly on the badger at the top of the window, Draco slowly traced his wand around the border counterclockwise. Once, twice, three times. He stopped, replaced his wand in his pocket, and pushed the windowpane with the palm of his hand.

When the window started to grow, Draco hardly flinched. It expanded until the top was well above Draco's head, and then stopped. Draco pushed the now huge window and it swung open, like a door. Stepping through, Draco found himself in the Hufflepuff common room.

He looked around, regaining a hold on his surroundings. He'd been here before, many times, but it had been months. Like Draco had expected, it was completely deserted this time of night. He paced slowly, quietly back and forth the length of the yellow-carpeted floor. He surveyed the room.

The room and nearly everything in it was circular. Stuffed bean-bag chairs and armchairs upholstered in yellow and black velvet were placed around an ornately-decorated fireplace. In the center of the room there was a long table with cushioned chairs circling it. Many yellow tapestries hung on the walls and the ceiling-to-floor windows, placed somewhat randomly across the walls, showcased a pitch-black night, no moon and no stars to be seen.

Draco thought the room might be cozy in the daylight, but in the dimness it seemed a bit claustrophobic, at least it did to him. Draco always felt that way when he came here. He would get the funniest feeling in the pit of his stomach. It was fear and apprehension and excitement jumbled together into something that made his chest feel like it was closing in on itself, leaving him breathless. He had become addicted to the feeling, and he came here whenever he needed to feel in charge of his own life, powerful.

Draco took a final deep breath, and he strode to the circular black door on the far wall of the room, knowing that it led to the Hufflepuff boys' dormitories. He lifted his fist, almost eerily pale in the moonlight wafting in from the windows. He knocked sharply. Once, twice, three times. A few seconds passed as he waited at the door, hands shoved in the pockets of his neat black pants.

Soon enough, he heard footsteps coming slowly down the stairs. The door opened, and Draco was greeted by the sight of a sleepy-eyed boy in his pajamas. Draco estimated he was about a fourth year, and his dark blond hair stuck up comically in the back. Upon seeing Draco at the door, the boy's eyes widened in surprise and he involuntarily flinched backward.

"You're a—," the boy cleared his throat, his voice gravelly from sleep, "You're a Slytherin, aren't you?" Draco hid a smirk. Many of the Hufflepuff students, especially the younger ones, were afraid of the Slytherins. Draco felt like telling the kid not to worry his little head about him, that he was nothing compared to some of the others, but he figured that'd scare him off even more, and Draco didn't want to waste any more time than he needed to.

"Yeah, yeah," Draco said, waving off the question, "Hey, um, any chance could you go and get Liam Yangley for me? He's in your dormitory, isn't he?" The boy eyed him suspiciously.

"What do you want with Liam? And do you _know_ what time it is?" The boy was backing away bit by bit, his hand on the door, as if ready to slam it in Draco's face. Draco put his hand there to hold it, just in case the boy tried.

"Yes, yes, I know what time it is, kid" he snapped. The boy frowned indignantly. Draco struggled to center his rising frustration levels. "But it's important."

"What could be so important that you show up in the Hufflepuff common room at this bloody hour of the night?" Draco sighed. He hadn't anticipated it'd be this difficult. Maybe he hadn't thought it through thoroughly enough. After all, in the past they had set a meeting time and place: some late hour, some deserted room or corner, but Draco had been far too impatient this time. Just as he was considering dropping the whole thing and leaving, an idea popped into his head.

"It's for Professor Dumbledore," he found himself blurting out. "He asked me not to tell anybody about it, but since _you _insisted…." The boy nodded his head slowly, but his face was full of skepticism.

"So… what you're saying is: Professor Dumbledore sent you to get Liam."

"That's exactly right. Like I said, Dumbledore is on a tight schedule. It's crucial that he see Liam right away. So, if you would…?" Draco gestured up the stairs with the hand that wasn't holding the door. The boy stared at Draco, his eyes squinted in dislike.

"Fine," he said shortly, "I'll go and tell him now." The boy turned his back on Draco and began to head up the stairs. At the last moment, before he went around a corner, the boy spun around again, his finger pointed accusingly.

"You better not try anything funny. Liam's my friend, and if you do anything except take him to Dumbledore, I'll…" The boy faltered when he saw Draco's cold stare.

"You'll…what? What was that?" Draco sneered at him, "Beat me up? I'm older and stronger. Curse me? Jinx me? I have two years more magic training under my belt and I've experienced enough out there in the real world to have you down and out in two seconds flat. Don't you try and threaten me, kid." The moment Draco said it he wished he hadn't, but it did the job anyway. The boy shot Draco one last hard look and trudged up the stairs without looking back.

Draco, who still stood there holding the door open, gently removed his hand and let the heavy door swing closed. He leaned against the contiguous wall, eyes shut in apprehension. All that about Dumbledore had been a lie, of course, but the kid had been stubborn as hell. It would do the trick anyway.

When Draco heard footsteps on the stairs, a good deal quieter than the boy's had been upon retreating, Draco eyes snapped open. He found himself pushing back his hair and straightening the hem of his jacket. He stopped himself. What did it matter what he looked like? It had never mattered much before. They were both purely in it for convenience. What made this time any different? And why was he so scared? An image of, strangely, Harry Potter flashed through his mind at that question, but Draco blacked it out impatiently before giving it a thought. He told himself to get it together, but despite that, his heart was hammering when the round door suddenly burst open and a boy stepped into the common room.

"Hello, Liam," said Draco. The boy spun around and stared at Draco, who was still leaning against the wall. Then, his face broke into an almost sly grin.

"I thought it might be you when Ralph mentioned a mean-spirited Slytherin boy about my year." Draco snorted.

"Well, at least I'm good looking."

"Don't I know it," said Liam as he slowly started to walk towards Draco. He had curly blonde hair and freckles, and his eyes, creased at the corners from his grinning, were a startling green. He wore a white T-shirt, and baggy checkered pajama pants that hung low on his narrow hips and dragged as he walked. "Well what brings you here tonight?" he asked, coming to a halt about a foot away from Draco. Draco smiled easily.

"It's not because of Dumbledore, if you hadn't already guessed."

"Yeah, I kind of figured that."

"Am I that easy to read?" Draco said jokingly. He was looking ahead, not at Liam, but at a spot over his shoulder, thinking of what he was about to do.

"No," said Liam, staring at Draco quizzically, "But I try my best." Liam lifted one hand, almost cautiously, as if expecting Draco to bat it away. He placed it against the wood-paneled wall near to Draco's head, so that Draco was almost cornered. Draco transferred his gaze from the wall behind Liam's shoulder to Liam himself, staring at him funnily, as if he was a pet who'd done something unexpected. When Draco didn't move to stop him, Liam visibly relaxed, still smiling slightly. "You never answered my question. Why are you here, Draco?"

In answer, Draco grabbed Liam's wrist that wasn't on the wall and strongly maneuvered him around so that Liam was the one against the wall. Draco pinned both Liam's wrists on the wall near to his head, and they were so close that their forearms pressed together. At this distance, one could see that the boys were close in height, with Draco maybe half an inch taller. Draco knew if he'd been on guard, Liam probably would've been able to resist him, as he was a beater on the Hufflepuff Quidditch team and rather stronger than Draco, but Draco had caught him by surprise, and anyway as a seeker, Draco had him on speed and agility. But, as Draco soon realized, Liam wasn't struggling. On the contrary, he was eying the boy inches away from him with a look of not only great surprise, but also great excitement. He hadn't been expecting this at all, but he was clearly willing to play along with this new turn of events. Draco was breathing roughly from his exertion, and looking at Liam with such intensity that Liam couldn't stand to look away. When Liam spoke his voice had become husky, and he swallowed again before saying:

"I thought you didn't want to get into this again. You said so last year."

"I know. I've changed my mind." Then, Draco kissed Liam hard, eyes and jaw clenched. Liam responded with enthusiasm, and he tried to get his hands free, but Draco wouldn't allow it. He only pressed harder against Liam, so that his lips and forearms hurt. They broke away, chests rising and falling against one another. Liam suddenly had a thought.

"What if someone sees?" asked Liam, and he glanced around for emphasis. It was more for Draco's sake than his. After all, Liam was out. Draco was not.

"No one's going to see," Draco said impatiently, his eyes dark. He moved to kiss Liam again, but Liam turned his head at the last moment. Draco's eyes flashed, and he stepped backward, releasing Liam's wrists.

"What's the big deal?" he asked. Liam was frowning.

"This is unlike you. You always make such a big deal about keeping it a secret. And believe me, if this is just some random whim of yours, hooking up in the common room, I don't want either of us to suffer for it later." Liam said all this calmly, gazing with concern at the other boy. Draco, meanwhile, angrily pushed his hand through his hair. He looked up at Liam.

"Do I _look_ like I care?" he said harshly.

"No, but -- "

"I can't take this shit right now, okay Liam? Look around, do you see anyone here? I don't. Now, will you get over here?" Liam raised his eyebrows.

"Alright, if you say so. But don't say I didn't warn you."

"Yeah, yeah," Draco said distractedly. He grabbed Liam's hand and pulled him over to the nearest armchair. Without wasting any time, he grasped the other boy by the neck of his T-shirt and pushed him roughly into the chair. Putting one knee on either side of Liam's legs, Draco straddled him. Liam's eyes were wide with surprise but filled with lust, his caution for Draco's sake taking a backseat. Liam slowly lifted his hands, free for once, and raked his fingers through Draco's soft blonde hair. Draco brought his head to Liam's and they kissed. Their bodies pressed against one another. Draco could feel Liam's erection growing underneath him, and he smiled under Liam's lips, a sense of satisfaction filling him at getting what he craved.

This was what he could always get when he was with Liam: power, pleasure, confidence, an escape. With Liam, Draco didn't have to pretend to be anything he wasn't. Besides, no one knew about it besides them, no harm came from it. When he was with Liam, Draco didn't have to deal with any of that messy relationship crap. With the two of them, no questions were asked, no personal details were exchanged. It was easy, it was casual.

Still, as ideal as his situation was, sometimes Draco couldn't help but think that he wanted more. Sometimes, when they kissed, Draco found himself thinking about someone else. And though he knew he was kissing Liam, Draco sometimes pictured another boy, one with green eyes very similar to those of the boy he kissed.


	8. A Morning After

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The next morning, as Draco drifted into consciousness, he experienced the common but odd phenomenon of not remembering where, when, or even who you are. He squeezed his eyes tighter before opening them, trying to come to his bearings. His head hurt. He moaned as he slowly sat up in bed, rubbing it. He made a mental note to look up a spell for that later.

As he looked around at the vacant beds of his dorm-mates, he hazily determined that he'd woken up late, again. He really should set an alarm. It wasn't as if he could realistically count on any of the Slytherins to wake him up. He squinted at the morning sunshine gleaming in through the windows of the room, their curtains clearly thrown aside by the others as they had woken up.

Draco got to his feet and stumbled like a drunk man or, in his case, someone who hadn't gotten nearly enough sleep. He recalled the last night's events and, looking back on them, it seemed to him as if he had been drunk. Everything said and done came back to Draco through a veil of fog, like it hadn't been him saying and doing it, but someone else entirely; a stranger who he only observed, who really didn't have anything to do with him. But, of course, and Draco knew, he had done it, and there was no taking it back, even if he wanted to. That was how these things with Liam always seemed to work.

Draco would have liked to slump back down in bed and sleep for another several hours, but his classes would still go on regardless of how he spent the nights before them. He started off towards the duffel bag containing his clothes that he not yet got around to unpacking, but he realized he was still wearing his clothes from last night. His head ached as he attempted to remember returning to the dungeons or getting into bed the previous night, but he came up blank. He supposed he'd been so exhausted he'd blacked it out. The evidence suggested that he'd reached the dorms and crashed, fully dressed, barely managing to kick off his shoes.

Draco glanced at his watch, which, since he'd never taken it off, had left an imprinted ring around his wrist. He noticed this with distaste, but he was more immediately concerned about how he had fifteen minutes left until Potions class. At the thought, a nervous sort of jittery feeling filled his stomach. He remembered all too well what had happened yesterday in that class, and he was in no mood to discover what new torments Slughorn had in store. He worried about how Potter would react to him today, the day after their encounter with the Amiradus potion, and its less than desirable effects. Draco figured if he had a clear memory of what had happened, then so did Potter, and that did _not_ make for a clear prediction of what was going to happen with Potter today. They were in unknown territory now, Draco thought, and he worried that their usual comfort zone – blatant hostility – might be altered. The thought made Draco very nervous. He wasn't sure whether he wanted to find out where he and Potter stood now or not. On one hand, blatant hostility was what he was used to and what he expected. On the other, Draco kind of liked not being neck-in-neck with Potter for once. He couldn't explain why, but somehow he felt he wouldn't mind feeling that sense of ease with Potter all the time. It was a foreign thought to Draco. It surprised him and frightened him a little, and of course he'd never admit it to anyone else.

Draco, short on time, decided to stay in his clothes from yesterday, since there was nothing really wrong with them besides a few wrinkles. He attempted to smooth those out with his hand, but upon failing he gave up with the vague thought that he wished he knew more housework spells. He also wished he had time for a shower. His shirt clung to his back with the cold sweat he had grown used to waking up with because of his frequent nightmares. Though the clammy hands and face that came with them were familiar to Draco, he still found them uncomfortable. But, unfortunately, there was no time to spare.

In substitution, Draco simply splashed his face with cool water, brushed his teeth, and combed back his hair with his fingers. He grabbed his knapsack and headed out the door.

With each step closer to the classroom, the feeling of apprehension in Draco's gut grew. By the time he'd actually reached the door, he had to force himself to stop and take a deep breath to calm himself down. He noticed with incredulity that his hands were actually shaking. Get a hold of yourself, Draco, he told himself, what does it matter what Potter thinks of you, now or ever? Still, these things he tried to tell himself didn't settle the butterflies one bit. With a feeling of determination, Draco finally reached out a hand and pushed open the door. He walked in; head high, spine straight, like a solider walking into battle.

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_Hi! Sorry for the wait everyone and I know the chapter's really short, but I wanted to give you something and I really wanted to write a "morning after" scene, so here you go. Keep reading and reviewing and giving me your input. I promise there will be more soon! Thank you all so much! _


	9. A Revealing Dream

_Sorry for the wait. Been working on this chapter for a while so I hope you like it! _

_Disclaimer at bottom. _

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Upon entering the classroom, Draco was relieved to find that he had not, in fact, walked in late again. Most students were just filing in and taking their seats. Draco took comfort in being part of the crowd this time around.

He walked, calmly as he could, to his seat in the back of the room. Potter was already sitting there, having an intense discussion with Granger and Weasley. Their heads were together and Draco heard them whispering urgently. Before he could make out a word of what they were saying, they caught wind of his arrival. They exchanged more of those annoying coded looks. Draco took his seat calmly, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

Draco glanced at Potter as he sat down, and he noted with some satisfaction that Potter visibly stiffened. His jaw was clenched hard and he was resolutely staring straight ahead. His arms were crossed defensively. Draco decided quickly that he didn't have the patience for those kinds of games right now.

"Potter," Draco acknowledged, breaking the silence. Potter jumped slightly when Draco spoke, and Draco smirked. Potter turned to look at him, an odd expression on his face that Draco couldn't quite place. Draco noticed that he too had bags under his eyes, though it didn't surprise him. Draco thought with distaste that he knew just what Potter was doing so late last night.

"Malfoy," said Potter at last, with a slight nod of his head. He turned back to facing front, still with that odd expression. Draco thought that he was so used to Potter's features twisted in anger or disgust towards him that anything but that threw him off. The irony of this made him laugh a little.

"Something funny, Malfoy?" Potter asked suddenly, sounding on edge. Malfoy shook his head.

"No. Nothing," Draco said, and he turned to face the front of the classroom, where Slughorn had commenced his lesson. He was currently going on about sleeping drafts. Draco tried his best to pay attention, but every few seconds he found his attention caught instead by the boy sitting quietly, tensely next to him. Both of them were on pins and needles, and there was no telling when the silence between them would have to be broken.

As Slughorn continued to elucidate the lesson, Draco came to the conclusion that he could relax his fear of having to interact with Potter, for the moment at least. As it appeared from the length of Slughorn's lecture, sleeping drafts were very complicated and intricate potions that required much explanation. It didn't seem like Slughorn was going to stop talking anytime soon. Quite the opposite, Draco noticed. The more the fat old man spoke on his subject, the more enthused he became. He was gesticulating wildly with his chubby hands, and his voice grew faster and louder, spitting out words for his class to frantically copy down. As Draco looked around him, he saw the other student's faces contorted in concentration, their quills moving across parchment with great fervor. Granger was leaning on her own quill so much that it snapped clean in half under the pressure, and she angrily muttered a curse that made Draco raise his eyebrows, mildly surprised of it coming from her. She hastily pulled another quill from her knapsack and continued writing.

Draco was trying very hard indeed to concentrate on what Slughorn was saying, as he knew it was likely to come up in an exam, but his lack of sleep was wearing on him. His vision started to go in and out of focus, Slughorn and the chalk-covered blackboard blurring. His ears failed him as well, and his brain, since he could no longer register what was being said at all. His eyelids were drooping. His elbow was slipping where it rested on the desk, his head in his hand. Just as he was about to give up the class as a lost cause and let his head drop onto the desk, a sudden thought stirred him to awareness: _He probably looked like a complete idiot. _

Just that thought was sufficient to make Draco sit up straighter, push his chair in more, and shake his head shortly as if to shake out the sleepiness. He couldn't fall asleep, not unless he wanted Potter seeing him drooling on his Potions book, murmuring things from his dreams. No, Draco thought, he wasn't about to give Potter any more reason to ridicule him or start a fight. Though the reason behind Draco's new attitude was unclear to him, he was beginning to except that it was at least true he didn't feel compelled to fight with Potter anymore. Maybe he was just growing up, becoming less compelled to childish quarrels. Or perhaps there was something, something Draco couldn't quite put his finger on. It was a "something" that, when Draco thought more on it, he wasn't sure he wanted to locate and examine at all. Once again, Draco shook his head, but this time it was less to shake out drowsiness and more to shake out those alarming thoughts he couldn't seem to get rid of.

Compelled by those same thoughts, Draco snuck a glance at Potter, quickly, his eyes darting to the side. He did a double-take, and had to struggle not to laugh out loud. Potter was asleep. He wasn't dozing off, or trying to stay awake. He was completely and unashamedly asleep. Draco felt an odd sense of triumph that he'd managed to stay awake while Potter hadn't. He guessed it had to do with the fact that almost everything was a contest with them. Comparing himself to Potter was a longtime habit that would be difficult for Draco to ever break.

Since Potter was momentarily out-of-commission, Draco now felt freer to look at him. He glanced quickly around to check that no one was looking their way, and he was relieved to find the other students still entirely absorbed in the lesson he'd forgotten. After a brief struggle with himself, like a puppet on strings, Draco succumbed to the confusing, but very powerful forces that drew him to Harry Potter.

Draco stared at the sleeping boy next to him. Harry's head, conveniently angled towards Draco, was cradled on his arms, which were thrown out over the table. Draco noticed with curiosity that Harry's face was much more relaxed in sleep. His jaw was slack, his mouth open slightly. Draco's eyes roved hungrily over the strong jaw-line and pink lips, and the flash of white teeth behind the lips. Harry's skin was smooth, pale and creaseless in his calm slumber. It contrasted sharply with the dark hair, almost black, that always grew a bit too long. Draco trailed his eyes over the locks that snuck down, curling slightly over the nape of Harry's neck and the sides of his face, around his ears. Draco saw the thick strands falling down over Harry's forehead, threatening to cover his eyes. Even closed Harry's eyes were beautiful, with long dark eyelashes that Draco bet a dozen girls would kill for.

Then, barely visible through Harry's bangs, Draco spotted the scar. It was thin, faded, but distinguishable from any other scar on earth. It was funny really, that this boy sleeping so peacefully beside him was the subject of a thousand history books, him as well as his scar. It was funny really, how a scar that, in another life, could've been a few oddly-placed slashes with a knife was so much more than that in actuality. It was the mark of a survivor, but also it had become a target; one that provoked a thousand people to honor him and a thousand others want to hunt him down.

With this thought, Draco suddenly snapped back into reality. He looked away from Potter, asking himself: what on _earth_ was he thinking? He and Potter were natural-born enemies! Potter was Dumbledore's pet, and all of Potter's friends stood behind the headmaster as well. Meanwhile, he, Draco, had taken on a far different path, the path of his family, the path that followed the Dark Lord. He had never chosen it, nor had he any say in the matter, but it was his none the less. There was nothing he could do about it. It wasn't a school-boy quarrel between him and Potter, no, not anymore. This was war, and they were standing on opposite ends of the battlefield.

Draco tried yet again to shake his head free of all the nonsensical thoughts that had been clouding his judgment as of late. He couldn't let those thoughts, powerful though they were, distract him from his destiny. He had to remember who he was, and who the boy sleeping next to him was.

Just as Draco's resolutions began to build themselves up in his brain, like a brick wall, trapping his other thoughts, a sudden stirring to his left caught his attention. Draco's gaze shot towards Harry, and it was almost as if he'd never looked away at all. The dark-haired boy was truly captivating in his sleep. Draco stared as if in a trance, the building of the brick wall halted altogether. Harry had moved suddenly. His brow was furrowed, his eyes shut tight. Then, barely perceptible, his lips twitched, forming words; words from his dreams. Draco held his breath and watched carefully, as Harry's lips shaped letters, vowels and consonants, heart-wrenchingly slow. Then Harry's voice picked up, and, so quietly it was audible to no one but Draco, as if what was spoken had been meant for him and him alone, Harry breathed the word: "Draco". The blonde boy's breath caught, and in a single instant the brick wall came tumbling down.

Draco stared incredulously at the boy capable of making him feel this way. He looked away after a few moments, resting his elbows on the table and rubbing his tired eyes. He didn't know what to think, how to feel, or what to do about any of this. His rubbing went on to his temples, since the endless stream of confusing feelings were giving him a migraine. Again, he thought distractedly of how he should look for a spell to deal with that. Sadly, though, headaches were the least of his problems. This was a fact of which he was painfully aware.

Surprisingly, Slughorn's suddenly elevated voice managed to carry through the din of Draco's mind, and Draco became aware that the class was now expected to replicate whatever it was Slughorn had been talking about for the past hour. Sure he was to fail miserably at whatever this happened to be, he thought he should at least wake Potter, who remained asleep despite the hustle and bustle of potion-brewing that had commenced.

Tentatively, Draco reached out a hand and tapped Potter on the shoulder. When he received no response, he grabbed the boy's shoulder, trying hard not to notice how muscular it was, and shook it. Simultaneously, Harry's eyes flew open and his arms flew up, leaving behind their resting place on the desk and leaping to their owner's defense. Draco pulled his hand back quickly, alarmed.

"What are you doing Malfoy?" Potter growled, his green eyes now squinted in distrust. It was a look so very familiar to Draco, but yet not one he wanted, as of late. He found himself angry and a little bit hurt at how quickly Potter snapped back into their old pattern. But, he supposed he couldn't be surprised. He'd never really given Potter any reason to trust him.

"I'm not doing anything, Potter," he said defensively, "You were asleep. I was trying to wake you up. I'd like to actually get some work done today, if that's okay with you." Comprehension flowed into Potter's face, and his hands slumped to his sides, along with his aggression. He sat there, his expression one of embarrassment and, above that, exhaustion.

"Sorry," said Potter, a bit reluctantly, and with a sigh, "I'm just having a hard time getting used to us not at each other's throats." Draco shrugged.

"Can't say I blame you. I just wanted to try something different, is all." Potter glanced sideways at Draco.

"Why?" Potter asked, "Why the sudden change, Malfoy?" Draco paused, unsure how to answer. Finally, he said:

"I dunno. I guess I'm sick of fighting with you." There was a silence when Potter stared at Draco, uncomprehending and still suspicious, but he seemed to decide to let it go for the time-being.

"So," Potter said, changing the subject, "What are we supposed to be doing?" Potter glanced around at those working, as if searching for the answer. Draco smirked.

"Dunno. Wasn't paying attention."

"Terrific," said Potter, "Wait, but didn't you just say you woke me up so we could work?"

"I did. And we can work once you could help me figure out what we're supposed to be doing."

"But I was sleeping," Harry said, sounding increasingly frustrated.

"And I was zoning out. But I think you still win the award for biggest slacker. Congratulations." Truth was, Draco didn't really care too much about Potions right now. He was still trying desperately to get his mind under control, and with this to distract him his mouth went on auto-pilot, spewing lines of his usual sarcastic banter. People usually took it to be insulting. To his surprise, however, Potter laughed.

"Same old Malfoy," he said, shaking his head. Malfoy smiled slightly. He turned to Potter and said:

"Come on, Potter. Let's go and ask what, in Merlin's name, we're supposed to be doing."

So they did. And Draco, throughout it all, knew that something had shifted between them. He couldn't exactly pinpoint that something, but he

knew, scary though it was, there was no going back.

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_So did you like the update? I have the next few chapters mapped out already, and there are lots of cool things to come. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, fanned, and favorited. It really puts a smile on my face to see this and makes me want to update more. So please review with thoughts, likes, dislikes, suggestions, anything. I hate to do this, but I'm not updating until I get five reviews so just please just press the button below and tell me what you think. Thank you so much!_


	10. A Fight in the Library

New chapter at last! Sorry to have kept you waiting, but it took me forever to get this just right. Be sure to give me your feedback/comments/suggestions. Thanks for reading and reviewing!

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Soon enough the day passed, and more days followed, the time moving faster and faster as the castle grew steadily colder. Still, though the seasons were changing, life continued as usual for the inhabitants of the castle. Before long the conversation topic of summer vacations became tiresome, and students got back into the swing of the new school year.

Draco Malfoy, however, was having a bit more trouble adjusting. This was quite understandable, when you considered his…extracurricular concerns, outside of normal schoolwork. For Draco was unlike most of Hogwarts's sixteen-year-old wizards in that he not only had to deal with homework, hormones, and social crises, but also with that very special mission, entrusted in him by the one whom all wizards feared.

Draco found himself at the Room of Hidden Things several times a week now, for hours at a time. He was quickly becoming aware that his task was not as simple as he thought it would be. It had not at first seemed daunting. All he had to do was fix the vanishing cabinet, surely an easy feat. However, as Draco set to work, it wasn't long before he had exhausted his own stores of knowledge and started frantically searching the library for a solution. Still, he found none, and with each day passing his ego shrunk and his doubts grew. Doubts that told him he was way in over his head, with no way out.

One day, in mid-October, Draco headed yet again for the library. Frustration was making him desperate. He rounded corners, passing a hand over his sweating forehead, though it was chilly in the corridors. He burst into the library and headed straight for the nearest shelf, from which he grabbed a book and started to leaf through it. His pounding footsteps and heavy breathing were enough to make Madam Pince "shh" loudly at him. In response, not wanting to be kicked out by the old lady, Draco tried to hold his breath and return his breathing to normal. Doing this made him feel a little bit lightheaded, so he leaned his head back against the shelf from which he'd taken the random book. He knew somehow that his cause was lost, even before he'd really begun to look. Suddenly, he heard someone call him. He jerked his head up and stared around blankly. Then, he smiled.

"Hey, Julianne." The 4th-year Ravenclaw girl was seated alone at the table nearest to him. In his haste entering the library, he hadn't seen her. It was, in fact, the first time he'd seen her in a few weeks. Draco was surprised at how glad he felt to see her smiling and waving at him. It was a welcome change from all the stress in his life at the current moment.

"Haven't seen you in while…" Julianne noted, as the Slytherin boy walked over to the table, taking a seat across from her.

"Yeah," he agreed, "I wonder why? I'm in the library constantly lately." She nodded, her brown hair falling into her eyes. She brushed it away with annoyance.

"Really? I've been here a lot too. Maybe we've just been missing each other." Draco, upon hearing this, realized how much her words were true. He had missed her, and not just in the sense she was referring to. Even though he'd only seen Julianne a few times, in the library or in the halls, since their first meeting, this quirky but genuine girl had really had an effect on him. Seeing her slight smile and the glint in her platinum eyes as she said this, Draco surmised that he'd made an impression on her as well.

"Yeah," he replied thoughtfully. A silence passed between them. In an attempt to procure conversation, Julianne asked about the book he still held in his hands.

"Strange choice. I didn't realize you were interested in…" she glanced at the title, "Hippogriff training." Startled, Draco looked at the cover of the book himself, and, sure enough, a fairly frightening illustration of a hippogriff glared back at him. He shuddered internally, recalling a rather unpleasant experience from his third year.

"I'm not," he said quickly, resolutely pushing the book away from him, "I sort of, er… grabbed it randomly." Julianne laughed.

"Interesting way of choosing a book, Draco. Are you really that indecisive?"

"Not exactly. Just…desperate," he hesitated, and then added, "I've been trying for _weeks _now to find actually useful information on this…" He trailed off, realizing what he was starting to say. Julianne, who had been intensely paying attention, stared at him, looking put out.

"On what?" she prompted. Draco glanced at her, and found his resolve to keep his mouth shut weakening. He was forced to remind himself that he could not possibly tell her, that it would be against all reason to do so.

"Nothing. Nothing important," he lied, looking her in the eye, though, admittedly, finding it harder to lie to her than most others in his life. Repeating to himself again that lying was for the best, he added "A project I'm working on outside of school. It's been… pretty rough."

Julianne nodded sympathetically, and Draco could feel guilt build up in his throat so thickly that he had to swallow it down.

"I'm sorry," she said, and Draco could tell she really meant it, "You know, now that you bring it up, you do look _really_ tired." Draco laughed without humor. He sure felt tired.

"Do I?" he asked vaguely.

"You do," she said. She was appraising his face, observing those visual signs of his exhaustion with concern.

"Quit looking at me like that," he said laughingly, feeling a bit self-conscious. Julianne meet his eyes suddenly and blinked behind her glasses, looking a bit dazed as if she hadn't entirely realized what she'd been doing. She blushed.

"Sorry, I'm just a bit worried that's all. You should be getting more sleep."

"Believe me, I would if I could. Why, do I look that awful?" He was half-joking, but Julianne answered seriously.

"You've looked better."

"Thanks for that," Draco responded sarcastically, a little hurt.

"I don't mean it in a mean way. I like the way you look." Julianne, again realizing her words, blushed deeply. She glanced at Draco, and, discovering that the comment hadn't had a negative effect on him, or any effect at all, for that matter, she continued. "Hey, Draco, if you ever need someone to talk to about this…project, or if you want any help with anything, just let me know, okay?" Julianne stared down at her hands, crossed on the table, waiting tensely for his reply.

Draco was touched. No one had ever said anything like that to him before, least of all someone who he would've liked to hear it from. He was about to reply when —"Julianne?"

Julianne and Draco both turned in the direction of the voice, caught off guard. Standing not too far from them, a stack of books in her arms, was a red-headed girl who was, unfortunately, very familiar to Draco. They had been interrupted by none other than Ginny Weasley. Draco, not wishing to be recognized by her, as she'd surely pick a fight once she did, put his head down in a poor attempt to be inconspicuous. He found himself scowling unconsciously at the presence of the ginger girl. It was funny, Draco thought. He'd never cared much about her at all before recently. Sure, she was a Weasley, and that had never counted for much in Draco's book. Yet, something, something having to do with a… mutual acquaintance of theirs, brought his dislike of her to a much more personal level.

"Hey, Julianne," Ginny repeated amiably, walking nearer to the table. Draco guessed that the two of them were friends. The thought displeased him, but he decided it better to his mouth shut on the subject.

"Hi Ginny," replied Julianne cheerfully, "How are you?" Draco was not wrong in assuming Julianne was an affable person, as the case so proved, but he wished more than anything his new friend would transfer her friendliness to another, any other.

"I'm really, really good, actually." Ginny grinned broadly when she said this, and Draco could only guess what was making her so jubilant. His scowl deepened.

"Well… that's great!"

"Yeah," Ginny sighed happily. She stood next to Julianne now, across from Draco. She put down her books on the table and stretched her arms. Julianne seemed to hesitate for a moment before asking what she did next, but she shortly succumbed to the temptation.

"Hey, Ginny…are you really dating Harry Potter?" Julianne's voice was strained, as if trying to suppress her curiosity. However, her wide eyes were betrayed her. In truth, she was awed at the prospect. Draco observed that she spoke Potter's name in the almost reverent manner that many others in the wizarding world did, even when they did not know him personally,. This made Draco the slightest bit uncomfortable, hearing her comment like this on the boy he both loathed and was so intrigued by. Then again, she could not possibly know of the…complicated relationship between himself and the Boy-Who-Lived.

"Oh, so you've heard something about that, have you?" Ginny said coyly, grinning and twisting a lock of hair around her finger. Draco was being virtually ignored by the girls, sat and listened to this conversation. Though it made him uncomfortable, he made no attempt to stop following it. His dislike of Ginny sharpened with every word she said.

"Yeah, from a couple of people now. Is it true?" Julianne asked a second time. Ginny, unable to conceal her grin, gave a small nod.

"Oh my gosh!" Julianne exclaimed enthusiastically, "Good for you!" Ginny hastily put a finger to her lips, beseeching Julianne to lower her voice.

"Just keep it between you and me, alright?" she said furtively, lowering her own voice as well, "It's been official for a couple of weeks, but we don't want to make it super public yet since it would upset my brother. I personally don't give a damn what my brother says about it, but he's Harry's best mate, so I'll keep it on the down-low, only for Harry's sake." She smiled. "He's really amazing, Juli. I'm so happy." Draco's eyes narrowed, and his chest constricted with anger and, possibly, envy. Draco blinked, surprised at himself. No, couldn't be. What was there to be jealous of? Unable to find an acceptable answer to that question, Draco resolved instead to concentrate the extent of his emotions on Ginny. No, he definitely did not like her. Not one bit. He might have even growled before he heard:

"Malfoy?" Ginny was staring at him incredulously. Caught off guard at being addressed so suddenly, Draco looked up quickly, moved his gaze back to his book just as fast, attempting to cover up his looking, and then, accepting the gig was up, resolved to meet her eye and glare. Ginny, ever the confrontational type, glared right back, unabashed. "What are you're doing, Malfoy? Eavesdropping? How mature of you…"

"Don't flatter yourself, Weasley," he said, as casually as he could muster, "Am I not allowed to work in the library? Last I checked, this was public domain." Ginny frowned, and though Draco expected a retort, she instead turned to Julianne, who had been watching the two of them with an air of troubled bewilderment at their behavior, behavior which she found totally unexpected.

"Is he bothering you?"

"What?" Julianne and Draco responded in unison, the first out of genuine surprise, the later out of total indignation.

"I _asked_ if Mr. Malfoy here is giving you a problem," she said, with an infuriating air of superiority, "Because I could get him to shove off if you want me to." Draco felt his judgment impaired by overwhelming, perhaps unreasonable fury.

"And how exactly do you propose to do that? You ignorant little --"

"That _won't _be necessary, Ginny," Julianne interrupted firmly, laughing nervously in her attempt to patch up the argument, "Draco's not _bothering_ me at all. We're friends."

"You see?" he seconded, grateful for her support, "I wasn't even doing anything." Ginny stared at them suspiciously, probably doubting the motives which would provoke the two of them, so apparently different, to ever become friends, and, at the same time, doubting whether Draco was capable of real friendship at all. There was a considerable pause as Ginny stared from one back to the other, trying to find a reasonable explanation. Draco sighed.

"Are you going to say something?" he said sarcastically, "Or will just continue to stand there for the rest of the period?" Ignoring his comment, Ginny shook her head.

"No, no. There's no way you two are friends. Julianne, you're so sweet, and Malfoy, well, he's not the best person to be hanging around with, truthfully. Believe me, I should know."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Draco interjected heatedly.

"Oh don't act like you don't know," she bit back, "Harry _told _me about what happened on the train, and personally, I don't trust you as far as I could curse you." Draco was jolted, but what she said only served to make him angrier. He felt foolish at ever entertaining the thought Potter could change his mind about him. If Potter's…girlfriend (the word produced a foul taste in his mouth) distrusted him so much still, it had to mirror Potter's own opinions, right? It was miserable to think that no matter how hard he might try to change his thoughts, his behavior, Potter's opinion of him, formed from the very start of their acquaintance, might remain unchanged. It was even more infuriating to hear the Weasley girl's take on things, as she had procured the good opinion of Harry, which Draco now, for unknowledgeable reasons, found himself wanting so badly.

"I could care less what you think of me, Weasley, so will you please do us all a favor and shut your mouth!" he yelled, his emotions fit to burst.

"Why should I? Don't want everyone to know what you really are? Knowing you, I'd think you'd be proud of it, the fact that you're a Dea- "

"I said… SHUT UP!" he screamed, this time in an absolute panic to stop her, for fear of Julianne hearing what Ginny had been about to say.

"SHHHHH!" All three spun around to see Madam Pince staring daggers at them. The sight of her and their noticing many of the library's other inhabitants watching them, enjoying the show, was enough to make them lower their voices in embarrassment. Ginny and Draco glared at each other silently for a few tense moments, while Julianne looked on, highly uncomfortable with the whole situation. Draco wished more than anything Ginny had never shown up in the library, never approached them. The last thing he'd wanted was for someone like Ginny, someone who knew and swore by how he'd been before this year to barge in and ruin the perception Julianne had of him. She'd become his blank canvas, a comfortable place to start anew, and to act like himself. Or, rather, himself as he'd changed this year. Lately, he'd been realizing how much he was changing, and becoming unlike the mean, proud boy the rest of the school had come to know. In Julianne, Draco had discovered an escape where he didn't feel any pressure to live up to his reputation. He wanted to keep it that way, but Ginny, with her biting accusations, wasn't making it any easier. Eventually, Julianne, unable to stand the pressure any longer, said:

"Look, guys, can't we just forget about this? Alright, I get that you guys don't get along, for whatever reason, but I'm friends with both of you. Can't we just leave it at that, please?" She shifted her gaze from one to the other, desperate for their assent. Finally, Ginny broke eye contact with Draco and turned to Julianne.

"I'm sorry, Juli, I really am. It's just… the guy's a prick, I've known that from day one."

"You don't know the first thing about me!" Draco exclaimed in a fervent whisper, "So don't go pretending you do."

"Can't we just agree to disagree?" Julianne begged, sounding close to tears. Draco turned to look at her, and he saw her looking so upset that Draco immediately felt bad, as well as guilty for being so insensitive to her feelings. He'd been so preoccupied with Ginny and what she stood for (namely, his past and a certain green-eyed Gryffindor), that he'd neglected thinking of how stressful it must be to see two friends fight, for reasons you don't understand, and over you, no less. She might've even thought she was the cause of the fight, even though both Draco and Ginny knew that wasn't the case. Still, Julianne had no way of knowing their history of conflict, as well as Draco's more hidden reason for attacking Ginny. Draco thought of how Julianne had said she didn't have too many friends, so he figured she probably hung on to ones she had pretty tightly.

"I can agree to that," he said kindly, and Julianne smiled at him, immensely thankful, "Ginny?" Julianne looked to Ginny hopefully, and Draco turned to her with his features carefully molded in a mask of polite indifference.

"Well, come on then," Draco said carefully, "What do you say?" Ginny stared at Draco, her eyes squinted in deep distrust. She seemed to be battling her two strongest inclinations: the first, suspicion of Draco, and the second, being supportive of her friend. The later ultimately won out, and Ginny replied, "Alright, then," though, admittedly with some reluctance. Still, it was enough for Julianne.

"Thank you," she said earnestly, to the both of them, "I can't stop you from fighting on your own time, I won't try, but I'd be so grateful if you just…don't fight in front of me. I hope that's okay."

"It's fine," Draco said, "It isn't your fault anyway. I got carried away. It was inconsiderate and I apologize." To Draco's surprise, Julianne laughed.

"What's funny?" he asked, a little offended. Julianne shook her head.

"It's just…you're being so formal. It's just me, Draco." She smiled and shrugged, and Draco returned the smile, thinking how she was right. It was just Julianne, who, in the short time he'd known her, had become a friend like he'd never had. Ginny observed their exchange, expression contemplating.

Finally, she shrugged, pushed her long red hair back behind her shoulders, and began to gather her books. Once she'd finished, she looked back at the two of them still sitting at the table.

"Well…I'd better get going," she said, "It was nice seeing you Julianne, and sorry about all that before. It's not my business to interfere."

"Don't worry about it. It's fine, really. I forgive you," Julianne said, brushing off Ginny's rather stiff apologies. Ginny smiled, and turned to Draco, acknowledging him with a sharp nod, her eyes predictably cold.

"Draco," she said in parting, her tone civil, but her eyes expressing distrust, and perhaps a threat telling him not to hurt Julianne, or else. Draco smirked and raised a hand lazily. With a last smile and wave to Julianne, Ginny spun sharply on her heel, her hair whipping behind her, and walked away.

Draco watched her go, thinking how appalling it was to him that that girl is Harry's girlfriend (internal gag). He was also a bit worried she would relate what had happened between them to Harry. Shaking off his concerns, he turned back to Julianne, it coming to mind that they were sitting alone at the table once more. They met each other's eyes, and then looked away awkwardly, at a loss for what to say.

"Well… that was uncomfortable," said Julianne at last, casually.

"Yeah, tell me about it."

"You and Ginny really don't get along, do you?" she asked, though she knew the answer was obvious. Draco smirked.

"How'd you guess?" he said, laughing, and then Julianne joined in, both laughing together. Almost abruptly, though, Julianne's expression turned serious.

"But, if you don't mind me asking, why? Why do you guys hate each other so much?" Draco's lingering smile faded as he wondered what to tell her. He didn't want to lie.

"You don't have to tell me," Julianne said quickly, seeing the look on his face, "I'm just curious, that's all."

"No, it's okay. I think you have a right to know." He paused then, and Julianne looked on expectantly.

"Long history?" she asked.

"I guess you could say that," he sighed, "Um…we've just never gotten along, not since the first day on the Hogwarts train. I got in a stupid fight with Potter and his friends, one of them is Ginny's brother. Since then, it's been one thing after another. Potter and the Weasleys are just about attached at the hip, so if one of them hates me the rest of them are bound to. Couldn't change that even if I wanted to. Hell, even our parents hated each other." Julianne was observing him like he was something fascinating.

"But, do you hate them too?" Draco was ready to respond in the affirmative when the question struck home. He paused, considering. Did he hate them?

"You know, I thought I did for a long time, but now…"

"You don't think you do anymore."

"No, I don't think so. I guess a lot's changed. I've changed."

"How do you think? How have you changed?" Draco looked up at her.

"I think I'm realizing… they aren't bad people," Draco said slowly, and as he said it he knew it to be true, "They're just different from me. You know, my father practically trained me to think the Weasleys were scum before I met a single one of them. And Harry Potter, well, he's more infamous than famous in my house, to tell you the truth. It's ridiculous. They aren't even bad people. And they're protective of each other because they care about each other. Admittedly, they want to protect each other from me, but I can't honestly say I blame them. They have no reason not to hate me, considering the way I've acted." Julianne stared on, sympathetic, but she spoke next with some uncertainty.

"You really feel that way? Even towards Ginny?" she asked, "Because, I'm sorry, but you didn't seem to thinking that way just before." Draco frowned and looked away, wondering how he could possibly explain that Ginny was no longer just another Weasley in his eyes.

"It's hard not to slip back into old patterns," he said distractedly, "Besides, she was attacking me and I felt a need to defend myself."

"Yeah, yeah, but it was more than that. It seemed really…personal. Like what she said was really affecting you, more than a general insult would." That's because it _was_ personal, Draco thought bitterly.

"Let's just say that I've recently found an actual, real reason to dislike Ginny Weasley." Julianne was intrigued, and more than a little irritated by his coded words.

"Really? Like what?" she asked impatiently. Draco wished he could tell her, he really did, but he was far too afraid to risk the chance that would involve. He was simply not ready to reveal the fact that he was gay, nor was he prepared to admit his preoccupation with Harry Potter, to her or to anybody.

"I'll tell you another time, alright?" Julianne was smart enough to see this for what it was, a blow-off, which was disappointing, admittedly. However, she cared enough and was wise enough not to press him on the subject.

"Fine," she said, sighing over-dramatically, and Draco had to laugh, "But that'd better be a promise." Though Julianne said so jokingly, the possibility of being held to make such a confession made Draco very uneasy. Still, he was obliged to respond with "of course". Draco figured, and he told himself, that eventually he should come out to Julianne. He thought that if he could safely tell anyone, it'd be her. Still, he hoped that the moment to confess wouldn't arrive for quite a while.

They laughed their fill, and their conversation for the rest of the period turned to more pleasant things.


	11. An Unfortunate Attraction

One morning, a week or so after the incident in the library, Draco was woken up by a loud chorus of voices in the common room. He grumbled, rolled over, and checked the time on his wrist-watch, which was lying on the table beside his bed. He was appalled to see it was before six in the morning. He dropped the watch back on the table, too tired to really care what they were all awake for, and he flipped onto his stomach and closed his eyes, attempting to fall asleep again. Unfortunately, the cacophony of voices below was far too loud. Draco had always been a light sleeper. He groaned into the pillow and, figuring there was no other option, forced himself out of bed.

Draco winced as his bare feet touched the cold wooden floor. Goose bumps crawled up his arms. He impulsively wrapped them around himself. For Merlin's sake, he thought, you would think a bloody magic school would have proper heating! He glanced around the room, coming to terms with his surroundings. The windows were wide open, which might explain the chilliness. Also, as Draco could've predicted from the ruckus downstairs, his dormitory had been entirely deserted.

Draco lumbered to the post of his bed, where he'd hung a couple of sweaters. He grabbed his favorite old gray one and pulled it over the white T-shirt he'd worn to bed, probably making his bed-head all the worse in the process. He was too exhausted to care much, so he simply slipped on his trainers, though they looked pretty funny paired with his green striped PJ pants, and declared himself ready enough to investigate.

As he headed down to the common room, and his mind grew less hazy, he started to recognize the voices as sounding excited. Draco didn't know how he felt about this. On one hand, no one was being attacked, it seemed. But on the other, a lot of things kids his age got excited about were things he didn't give a crap about, for one of quite a few reasons.

He entered into the common room, and was struck by the amount of people crowded into the room, certainly many more than usual for this hour in the morning. Like him, many of them were still in their pajamas, and they were all gathered around the board in the room used as a place to post school notices.

Suddenly, it hit Draco what was going on. He recognized the signs, and there could only be one explanation: Quidditch season had arrived.

A surge of adrenaline coursed through his veins, and he strode into the room, among the masses. He made his way to the bulletin board, elbowing a few indignant younger students out of the way. Sure enough, there it was in big, bold letters. From around the room you could hear people murmuring about it. Try-outs were the coming Saturday, and as it was with each year, the Slytherins were eager to get started. They were ready to play, and, of course, ready to kick the Gryffindor team's ass. Draco, as he listened, heard all the typical conversations that came with this notice. First and second years insisting they were geniuses at Quidditch, and that they would surely make it on the team because "hey, if Potter did it, anyone could!" Older students proclaimed the skill of this year's team captain, and stated their confidence that this year's team would be unbeatable.

Draco, who had always been thrilled at the competitive rush Quidditch gave him, found himself considerably less animated at that prospect than in previous years. Draco had never been passionate about Quidditch, but he did enjoy it as a hobby. His father had pushed him into it at a young age, considering it good discipline and a necessary practice for any boy of character. It was lucky Draco liked Quidditch, or he would've been miserable. His father took him to countless games, bought him the best brooms, and, in Draco's 2nd year, secured Draco the slot as seeker on the Slytherin team. There was a good chance Draco would've gotten on the team anyway, as his extensive training provided what he lacked in natural talent. To his father's delight, Draco grew to be quite a good flyer. Still, Lucius needed insurance, and Draco didn't argue with that. After all, above anything he wished to be on the team because of Potter. Potter had been on his house team since their first year, and he had natural-born talent. Draco was jealous, so not only did he join the team, he also insisted on being seeker, just like Potter. His father's insurance had guaranteed him any slot he wanted, so he took on the role, eager to beat Potter at his own game. However, this year Draco, for whatever reason, wasn't feeling so compelled to try out at all. Maybe it was his overall exhaustion, coupling from his overlarge workload and his..other concerns. Maybe…

In the midst of all the excitement, Draco also gained intelligence that Harry Potter was the new Gryffindor team captain. He was momentarily surprised at this, but then he came to figure it was inevitable Potter would be chosen for that role after Oliver Wood, the previous captain, graduated. What with Dumbledore's favoritism towards Potter and his, it pained Draco to admit it, _considerable_ skill in Quidditch, Draco supposed he should have expected nothing less.

Then, without thinking much about it, Draco grabbed the quill levitating near the bulletin board, and he scratched his name on the try-out sheet. He took a deep breath, stepped back to survey his signature, and headed back to his dormitory. All the while, he wondered at what compelled him to sign up again. Draco had been hesitant to rejoin the team, but now…he didn't know. He thought it might be because he liked Quidditch too much to give it up, but he knew better than anyone that wasn't the truth. He didn't need Quidditch, and there were more important things to concentrate on this year. He then thought his change of heart might be because his father would be so disappointed in him if he gave it up. Lucius himself had played keeper for Slytherin back in the day, and besides wanting his son to continue his legacy, he also considered a life as a servant of the Dark Lord no excuse for quitting anything, as he had handled his job at the Ministry along with his Death Eater duties for years. However much Draco wanted to believe this was the source behind his change of heart, he was forced to disprove it as such. Draco hadn't been thinking of his father at all in the Common Room. There was only one other explaination and Draco didn't like it: Harry Potter. Draco's stomach sank. No, he thought, why would I want to see Potter more anyway? I see enough of him in Potions already.

Draco trudged back up the stairs and into the dormitory, which was still empty, and he flopped on his bed. He closed his eyes, but his thinking kept him awake. He couldn't get Potter off his mind.

Potions isn't nearly as bad as I expected, he forced himself to admit. In the weeks since they had been pronounced "Potions Partners", Draco and Harry had actually continued to get along. They worked together diligently and were often remarked upon by Slughorn for their good work, although admittedly much of their potion-making success stemmed from Harry's secondhand textbook. Besides that though, Draco found himself actually enjoying his time spent working with Harry. The wall had been torn down between them, their relationship had changed, and they both realized it, on some level or another. Though they did not speak of it, neither had forgotten Amiradus. Nor had Draco forgotten about the words Harry spoke from his dream, and that was something he was even less likely to bring up. Gone were the name-calling, the jinxes, and the general cruelty that had long defined the two. There was still snarkiness, still teasing on both ends, but Draco had grown to enjoy their banter. It was a game the two of them played.

Also, Draco was talking, not arguing or insulting or threatening, to Harry for the first time. During Potions they really got an opportunity to have conversations, and Draco was realizing that the more he talked with Harry, the better he liked him. This scared Draco. Usually he didn't like people very much, and in most cases the more he got to know someone the less he wanted to. Harry Potter was different, because with every period, every hour, every minute they spent together, every passing glance in the halls, Draco wished for another. Every moment spent with Harry he wanted to double.

It was driving him mad.

_New chapter! Yay! How do you like it? Please give me your feedback as I appreciate it so much. Let's see, if I get five reviews I'll update within two weeks. If I get more than that I'll update in (BIG SHOCKER) one week! Thank you to everyone who is reading, subscribing, favoriting, and reviewing. I love you all and we are one in our love of Harry Potter! LOL_ :D


	12. A Moment Alone

A week soon passed and Draco headed out to the Quidditch field, his Nimbus 2001 thrown over his shoulder. Try-outs were today, and he was surprised at how nervous he was. After all, it was almost guaranteed he would make it back on the team. For prior members, trying out again was a formality more than anything else. Still, Draco couldn't shake the feeling that he needed to be on the team again this year, no matter what. The reason for this urgency he was just starting to understand. As it turned out, Harry Potter was Gryffindor Quidditch captain this year, and lately wherever Harry was, Draco felt an insane impulsion to be.

Draco walked out onto the field. Shortly after his feet touched the grass, a huge fat raindrop landed with a plop on his head. Water dripped down his forehead, and he wiped it away with his sleeve, annoyed. Once he did, another droplet fell on his shoulder, on his hand, on his face. More and more rain drops fell until it was pouring, water showering down on Draco's hair and clothes, soaking him through and through. He groaned, and fumbled in his robes for his wand, but by the time he managed to perform an umbrella charm to shield himself, his clothes were damp and he was shivering. Despite it being barely October, fall was on the horizon, and it was quite frigid outside. Draco pulled his wet robes closer around himself, but it did no good, and he thanked Merlin he had his dry Quidditch robes to change into.

He headed straight towards the locker room, considerably faster than before, the muddy field squishing under his trainers. He knew tryouts would go on still, despite the sky currently being the color of ash. The Slytherin captain would probably even be glad for the rain, thinking it would give the newbies even greater a challenge.

Draco finally reached the barracks where the boys changed, hastily shoving open the door with his free hand and coming inside. He returned his wand to his robe pocket, pushed a hand through his dripping hair (wiped his dripping hand off on his jeans), and leaned gratefully against the solid wooden door which was keeping out the rain. It appeared that he was the first to arrive for the try-outs. He guessed it was because he had some real motive to be on time today. He usually didn't.

Then, he heard a sharp intake of breath from somewhere in the room. Draco wasn't as alone as he thought.

"Malfoy?" a familiar voice proclaimed with bewilderment. Draco's eyes snapped open, and he jerked his head up, scuffing his scalp painfully on the wood. He walked forward, rubbing his stinging head with his palm and trying to play it off as fixing his hair. He removed his hand to glance at his fingers. No blood. That was good. He then stowed his hands in his pockets.

"Potter," he acknowledged nonchalantly, "Hey." Draco thought of how stupid he must look, but he couldn't think of what else to say. He just needed to be cool, so he told himself. Slowly, he sauntered over to the bench opposite where Harry was sitting, his Quidditch equipment splayed out around him. Draco seated himself, setting down his broomstick and spreading himself out, legs wide, arms open and lain across the back of the bench. He pushed back his hair again with a sweep of his hand, forgetting about his prior injury, and he winced at the contact. Harry raised his eyebrows, but looked away, shaking his head just the tiniest bit.

"Um, hey yourself," Harry said, after clearing his throat. There was an awkward silence. Draco alternated between staring at the linoleum tiles on the floor and glancing at Harry. Draco was painfully aware of the fact that they were completely alone. Granted, someone was likely to barge in at any moment, but Draco could still feel the tension, just dripping off the walls.

Draco was aware of Harry in the physical sense too. Harry had clearly been in the process of changing when Draco arrived, since he only had on a white undershirt and a pair of blue checkered boxers. Draco couldn't help but notice the way the shirt clung to Harry's chest and abdominal muscles. He couldn't keep his eyes from roving over Harry's wide shoulders and strong arms, or the way Harry's hair, wet from the rain, fell over his eyes in silky tendrils, or even the way Harry's cheeks were still flushed pink from the cold and wind. It was all Draco could do to keep his eyes away from the boxers Harry wore, for that was one area he definitely didn't want to be caught gawking at. As discreetly as he could, Draco picked up his pile of Quidditch robes and relocated them on his lap. He needed to cover something that had…er… come up.

"So…" Harry said finally, and Draco jumped, readjusting the pile and trying to look natural, "What are you doing here?" Though it wasn't asked in a way that sounded confrontational, the question confused Draco.

"What am I doing here?" he repeated, "I've got Quidditch try-outs today, Potter, thought you'd know that."

"What time?" Potter asked shortly.

"What?"

"What time are your try-outs?" he clarified impatiently, "I don't see anyone else from your team." Draco shrugged.

"The paper said 12:15," Draco glanced at his watch, "But I'm early. Why?" A thought suddenly struck him. "And…what are _you _doing here anyway?" Harry frowned.

"That's the problem. _I'm_ here for Quidditch try-outs. I booked the field for Gryffindor. 12:30." Draco shook his head.

"Wait, but Slytherin has the field now. You can't use it. The audition notice has been up a week. A lot of people are going to be showing up soon." Harry sighed.

"Can we not fight about this, please? Our sign-up sheet has been up just as long as yours. There must've been a mistake, is all. It's not anyone's fault… It happens all the time." Harry shot Draco a sly, accusatory sort of look, and Draco recalled an incident back in 2nd year when both teams had claimed the field. He'd called Granger a mudblood. Incidentally, it had been the first time he'd used the word out loud. Looking back on it, with Harry in front of him, Draco almost felt guilty. Also, if he remembered correctly, Weasley had ended up barfing slugs. That Draco still found kind of funny. Hey, it hadn't been him who'd done it.

"Yeah," said Draco after a moment, "There's no use fighting over it…but I doubt the others are going to see it that way. You know how Gryffindors can get." Harry laughed incredulously.

"Excuse me? You know how Slytherins can get!" Harry's absolutely defiant expression made Draco crack up laughing, and shortly Harry's sternness broke and he joined in, until they were both clutching their sides and gasping for breath.

"Okay, I'll give you that one," Draco panted, at last, "So…what do think we should do? Who'll get the pitch? Either way someone's going to be pissed off. It's a lose-lose situation." Harry was staring off past Draco, thinking. Suddenly, he met Draco's eye.

"I've got it…I think. Er, I know it sounds pretty unlikely, but how about we share?" Draco raised his eyebrows? _Share?_ Harry shrugged. "Well, why not? We can get half the field, and you guys can have the other half. That's more than enough space for having kids fly a bit, pass and throw the quaffle…"

"I don't know, Potter. I don't know if my team will go for it. They'll probably say you're trying to check out the competition, find ways to beat us. Not that I think that," he amended quickly, "But you can be sure that's what they'll say." Harry rolled his green eyes.

"Oh, come on! It's just auditions. We won't even know whose getting in on either team, and it's not like they're gonna be teaching the newbies important plays or anything. Look, _I'm_ okay with sharing the field. There's no reason not to, and I don't want to get into a fight with any Slytherins, or reschedule, for that matter. I can convince my side to deal. How about you?" Harry stared intensely at Draco, totally resolved in his plan. Draco, however, was still not so sure, and Harry was making him nervous. He looked down at his hands, fingers curled tightly around each other. On one hand, Draco didn't want to antagonize the Slytherin captain, a six-foot-five 300-pound oaf whose vocabulary probably consisted of fifteen words, among them "punch", "crush", and "destroy". Though Draco could definitely take him in a duel, he somewhat doubted his ability to defend himself against a fast-coming fist near the size of his head. The last thing he needed was that humiliation and the waste of time Madam Pomfrey would no doubt spend reconstructing his face. On the other hand, Draco didn't want to disappoint Harry.

"Um…I'll try," he answered cautiously, "I can't tell you how much good it'll do. I'm not Quidditch captain, but I guess I can put in a few good words for you and try to get some support from teammates. I've been on the team the longest out of most of them, so I guess my word's worth something." Harry's eyes widened a fraction, and Draco guessed Harry hadn't surmised the Slytherin would give in so easily. This fact sinking in, Harry smiled widely and genuinely, and Draco's heart flipped a little. Harry's expression turned abruptly to one of concern, and he looked down at his watch. He cursed under his breath. Precipitously, he stood up. He fumbled in his pile of stuff on the bench around him and unearthed a set of Gryffindor Quidditch robes, like Draco's, except with different colors, and a lion instead of a snake. Draco would never admit it to anyone, but he actually didn't like snakes very much. Although, I do like the color green, he thought furtively.

Draco watched as Harry threw his robes over his head, catching a momentary glimpse of pale abdomen when Harry's tank top rode up. Harry's head pushed through the top of the robes, his hair looking even messier than usual, and his hands, with long thin fingers and short dirty nails, emerged from the sleeves. He straightened out the robes, and he proceeded to gather up his remaining clothes and things and shoved them into a gray duffel bag. He swung the bag over his shoulder. He took gripped his Firebolt in the other hand. Turning once again to Draco, who watched curiously, Harry looked apologetic.

"Sorry to rush out, but people are gonna be here soon, and I have to get the Quidditch equipment from the shed. Captain's duties. I'll be back in a few minutes…" Harry paused uncertainly, as if waiting for Draco's go-say.

"Go ahead, Potter, "Draco said laughingly, "I won't die without your illustrious company." Harry smirked, looking down.

"That's not what I meant, Malfoy. I –"

"Just forget it," Draco interceded, "Let's just hope I don't _perish_ of loneliness without the 'Chosen One' by my side."

"Oh, shut up," Harry shot at him, and Draco laughed. He waved shortly, biding Harry leave. Harry started to walk toward the door when something suddenly occurred to him. He turned around.

"And by the way," he said to Draco, "Thanks."

"For…?"

"For backing me up with the whole Quidditch thing," Harry walked closer to Draco and slowly, hesitantly, placed a hand on his shoulder. Draco tensed, but didn't move away. "I…I really appreciate it." Harry smiled once more at Draco, a small, private sort of smile, and then he spun on his heel and walked out the door and into the rain, his muddy sneakers squeaking on the white floor tiles. Draco watched as the damp wooden door swung closed behind the Golden Boy, and at once he leaned back against the metal lockers, for some strange reason, winded.

_I know, I know. I'm an awful, lying fanfiction writer and I should be sent to Azkaban for not updating. In my poor defense, I'm almost done with school and I am quite stressed out at the moment. Please forgive me! Anyways, I hope you like the new chapter, and I'll try to get the new one up as soon as I can. I love you all and please keep reading and reviewing (and favoriting and putting-on-story/author alerting. lol). :)_


	13. A Persuasion

"What are you staring at, Malfoy?" Draco blinked dazedly and he turned towards the locker room door.

"Huh?" he slurred. His vision slowly came into focus and the image of Blaise Zabini became clear. Blaise had his arms crossed, a smug, pointed expression on his face. Draco wondered vaguely if that was how he himself looked most of the time. The thought displeased him.

"Nothing," Draco recovered, "Just wondering whether the new recruits will be as pathetic this year as they usually are." He paused, and innocently added, "That is what you're here for, right, Zabini? Quidditch try-outs?"

Zabini smirked. "Thought I'd go out for the team this year. See what all the fuss is about." He sauntered lazily over to a bench a few over from Draco's, his equipment bag swung over his shoulder. Draco scoffed.

"Are you even any good?"

The other boy didn't miss a beat. "Are you?"

Draco simply smirked. He got up quickly and moved to his locker, where he stored his Quidditch robes over the summer. He muttered a short incantation to unlock it and hastily grabbed the bundle of green and black. He proceeded to peel off his damp clothes, a relief in itself, and he threw on the new set, the robes were dry and warm against his skin. He breathed in deeply, closing his eyes, before turning around, balling up the damp clothes and throwing them into the locker, slamming the door shut, and walking briskly back to his bench. He snatched up his broomstick on his way to the locker-room door and, at the last moment, he circled back to address Zabini, whom he hadn't acknowledged in about five minutes.

"I have to go and discuss something with the Slytherin captain," Draco said suddenly, and Blaise's head shot up, startled, "So, I guess I'll be seeing you on the field. I certainly hope you don't get smeared across it." Draco gave him one last smile before he spun around and pushed out of the room, not even giving the other boy a moment to react.

Draco stepped outside, satisfaction making him smile, but shortly the rain, which continued to pelt the earth with surprising vigor, snapped him to his sentences. He muttered a short curse and shielded himself as quickly as he could with an umbrella charm. The damage was not terrible, he assessed thereafter, and his Quidditch robes were thankfully insulated. He scanned the field, searching for Potter.

Shortly, Draco located the Gryffindor boy, and he smiled a little at the sight of him, dark messy hair drenched with rainwater, fogged-up glasses, wet Quidditch robes that clung to him. Clearly, he hadn't bothered with an umbrella charm, and Draco certainly wasn't complaining. Potter was in conversation with the huge Slytherin team captain, who was scowling and had his meaty hands balled into fists. Draco knew immediately that Potter had launched his attempt to get the two teams to share the pitch for try-outs. Personally, he didn't think the chances of that happening were very good, but he'd agreed to try and help anyway. He heaved a quick sigh and headed over to where they were standing. When the Slytherin captain started shouting, Draco sped up and jogged.

"What's going on?" Draco yelled over him, upon reaching the gathered group. Potter opened his mouth to respond, but Head Beefy cut him off, jamming his huge finger into Harry's chest, pushing him back a pace.

"Potty here's trying to cheat us out of our field time!" he screamed, his face bright red and shiny. Potter looked angry as well. His jaw was clenched and a vein in his neck pulsed. Still, he took a deep breath.

"That isn't what I said. I said we- both teams- could "

"Share? Is that whatcha said?" Beefy laughed, "Share my arse! You're just trying to spy on our recruiting! Get a heads up on the game! Do I look like I'm dumber than a sack of rocks, Potter?" Draco smirked. He supposed it was meant as a rhetorical question. Desperately, Potter met Draco's eyes, pained with the effort of not fighting back, and evidently close to his breaking point. Draco knew immediately the time had come to own up to his promise.

"Actually, Smeler," Draco interceded, recalling Beefy's name, "I think Potter's right." Beefy stared at Draco as if he'd just announced he was part hippogriff.

"What did you say Malfoy?" Beefy finally asked, the hint of a threat in his tone. Draco gulped but stood his ground.

"I mean, as butt-headed as he is, Potter has a point. There's more than enough room for both teams to run their tryouts, and we save time and energy this way. We can get the team set up quicker and start practice earlier than usual... And we can still kick Gryffindor's arse." Draco finished feeling pleased with himself. He thought he'd made a pretty good argument. He glanced towards Potter, who shot him a grin. Draco's stomach did a little somersault. Meanwhile, Beefy seemed to be having a brain aneurism, his face twisted in on itself and his eye twitching with the intensity of his thinking. Draco would hardly have been surprised if the big guy simply collapsed from the effort, right there on the Quidditch field.

"But…" Beefy finally got out, "They'll…know! They'll see our try-outs!"

"Try-outs are just try-outs, Smeler. It's not like we're going to be broadcasting strategies for the world to see. We're just trying the newbies on technique. Simple flying skills, tossing and catching abilities. The other team won't be doing anything different."

"We'll be busy enough forming our own team. We don't need to spy on yours, believe me," Potter added. He and Draco awaited Beefy's decision.

"I don't trust you, Potter," he growled, "But it'll have to be put to a vote." Potter nodded curtly.

"Fine. But try to be quick about it, will you? We've wasted enough time on this already." With a final scowl, the Slytherin captain turned and started to walk away.

"You coming, Malfoy?" Beefy called. Potter looked towards Draco and rolled his eyes. Draco shrugged, and waved to Harry before sprinting the few paces to catch up with his teammate, mud squishing under his trainers. Together, they headed towards the other side of the field, where a few dozen students, donned in Slytherin green and toting broomsticks, had gathered. Beefy frowned.

"I don't trust that Potter," Beefy grumbled again, "I don't trust him for one minute." He paused, and then said, as if he'd stumbled upon an astonishing realization, "And neither should you, Malfoy! What the hell are you thinking? I thought you hated that prick! What are you getting at anyway?"

Draco faltered. He'd expected something like this. After all, a year ago he wouldn't have trusted Potter as far as he could jinx him, and he certainly wouldn't have been talked into sharing the Quidditch pitch with him and the rest of the Gryffindors. Despite the fact that things were different now, Draco couldn't fight off the feeling that he was somehow betraying his house.

"I'm not getting at anything, Smeler. I meant what I said back there. We save time and energy this way," Draco said, "Believe me, I can't stand the whole lot of them any more than the rest of you can. But, with our options, this is the right call." Beefy turned his head and smiled slowly at Draco, his teeth yellow and crooked.

"You sure? 'Cuz You seemed pretty cozy with Potter back there, Malfoy." Draco's eyes widened and his thoughts whirled, but he kept his composure and lied smoothly.

"Potter!" he scoffed, "I can promise you that I fully intend to smear that bastard across the field, first chance I get."

"Could've fooled me." Draco scowled.

"Not to say that wouldn't be difficult…but sometimes, you have to make alliances with your enemies. It's about time we grew up. Spent less time actively hating them and more trying to beat them at something that matters. At Quidditch! That is why we're here, after all, isn't it?"

Beefy stared at Draco as if he was in the throes of the most intense brain freeze of his life. His face contorted with the effort of decision, but Draco knew that he had won. If there was one thing he knew, the Slytherins would do pretty much anything to beat the Gryffindors. Smeler, stupid as he was, was in his seventh year, and he couldn't help but realize he only had one more chance at the glory of the House Cup.

"I don't like it," Beefy said finally, "But okay. If I end up regretting this, Malfoy, it'll be your arse." As if to prove his point, he made a fist and proceeded to hold it under Draco's nose. "Understand?" Draco stared calmly at him.

"Please get your hand out my face. _Salazar _knows where it's been."

Beefy snarled at him, but slowly brought down his fist and continued walking towards the bleachers. "Come on, gotta break it to the newbies."

"Didn't you say something about a vote?" Draco asked him. To this, Beefy laughed.

"Malfoy, this is the Slytherin Quidditch Team. I am the captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team. This is not a… democraticyship, it's a dictatorship. I only said that to get Potter off our back."

"Genius, Smeler, genius," answered Draco, rolling his eyes.

"If they wanna be on the team, the little buggers'll have to do what I say, whether they like it or not."

"Right you are, Smeler," he said vaguely. They had reached the bleachers, where the kids were assembled. Upon seeing the captain of their house team, they visibly perked up, quite ready to kiss arse, bribe, and threaten if it meant getting a spot. Those were the Slytherins for you, and Draco didn't know whether to be proud or ashamed.

He sighed, and as Smeler began to say his piece, Draco turned his head and looked across the field.

There, standing almost directly across from him, on the far side of the pitch, was Harry Potter, dark hair and scarlet robe, Firebolt propped up next to him. Potter was looking towards him. When they made eye contact, Potter shrugged his shoulders and mouthed a question. Draco gave him a thumbs-up. The operation was a go. Harry nodded enthusiastically and grinned at him. Reluctantly, Draco turned back towards his current and future teammates. It was all worth it, all that trouble, just to see that smile.

* * *

Okay, so after a long and drawn-out hiatus, I am continuing this story, for any new readers and those of you who've actually stuck with me. Thank you!


	14. A Ginger Overdose

A fact wildly unsurprising to anyone, Gryffindors and Slytherins alike loudly protested to the idea of sharing. On Draco Malfoy's end of things, Captain Beefy's announcement of the plan had been met by nothing short of moral outrage. Only after several bouts of persuasive threatening and a very convincing jinx on a particularly stubborn 3rd year did Beefy finally get his point across. Grumbling, and making no attempt to hide their scorn, the Slytherins got to their feet and the try-outs began at last. As Draco had expected nothing more, he was deeply relieved.

Usually, his main task during these try-outs was to go through the motions and await his inevitable reacceptance. It was all but a guarantee he'd be placed on the team again, after all. So, he trailed towards the end of the line, letting the newbies go ahead, and went instead to find Harry Potter.

Upon spotting him, though, Draco regretted his impulse. Potter had just finished addressing the whole Gryffindor lot, and was now talking to Weasley, who looked rather green. Harry, meanwhile, looked completely exasperated. He had his hand on Weasley's shoulder and seemed to be trying to convince him of something, but to no avail. Draco paused in his walking, but continued to watch as Ginny came up behind Potter, cool and cocky. She smiled sickeningly at him and reached her hand up to ruffle his hair. Ron gave them a sort of funny look, almost suspicious. But, just as quickly, he seemed to dismiss it, and they continued discuss whatever they had been, only this time with Potter's little girlfriend available for side comments.

Draco scowled. He supposed the pair of them were still keeping it…whatever it was they had going on from Ron. Potter didn't want to upset his friend. Yet, here they were, rubbing it right in guy's face and what? Was he really thick enough not to figure it out? It was certainly clear enough to Draco, clearer than day, and, at the same time, a prospect blacker than night. He was surprised at the anger he felt knowing that Weasley remained blissfully ignorant of what was happening right under his nose. Still, he was jealous. Jealous that Ginny's brother and Harry's best friend was free of the torment that undertook him, having to witness the nauseating scene. He had almost turned away in disgust when,

"Malfoy! Hey Malfoy!" Draco started, his lingering anger battling with the elation of hearing his name. He attempted to rearrange his features into a look of carefree pleasantness.

"Yeah?" he called back.

"Come here!" Potter shouted. Slowly, almost reluctantly, Draco walked over to where Potter stood, with Ginny and Weasley still beside him. Draco surmised that Harry had not given them warning beforehand, and neither looked very pleased at his appearance. Ginny was glancing incredulously from Harry to Draco, and back again, horror evident in her pale, freckled face. Draco felt smug, wanting to tell her that hey, he guessed she wasn't the only one who kept secrets. Ron, meanwhile, having seen this before, merely looked grimly resigned, as if he did not in any way approve, but had no choice but to suffer through. Potter, seemingly oblivious to the reactions of his friends, grinned amiably at Draco.

"So," he said, when Draco was within speaking distance, "I see you had some luck after all." Draco nodded, halting within a few feet of Potter, and studiously trying to ignore the others.

"Yeah. Not to say they liked the idea much though." Potter smiled.

"Oh, believe me, I get it. My team basically went into shock when I told them. But it works out so much better this way, I think."

"You say that now…just wait until the violent duels break out," Draco joked. Harry laughed, but Ginny and Ron looked still more grave and indignant.

"Hey, if your side plays nice, so will mine," he said lightly.

"Sure, sure," Draco smiled, "It's always the Slytherins, the Gryffindors are perfect angels, is that right?"

"Well…"

"Come on, we're not all that bad!"

"Better quit while you're ahead, mate." Draco eyes widened a little with surprise at Potter's use of the word. Maybe friends wasn't …exactly what he wanted, but it gave him a warm feeling inside to realize Harry was coming to think of him that way. Potter himself seemed unaware of the gravity of his word choice, but it did not escape the notice of the Weasleys, who were both staring at Potter, incredulous and appalled. Draco, wishing to break the increased tension Potter's statement caused in this little group, made an attempt to change the subject.

"So…have you started your try-outs yet?"

"Why? Planning to go snooping around, Malfoy?" Ron suddenly burst out. Draco stared at him.

"No, Weasley, I'm not," he responded, trying to keep his composure, "I'm asking because I'm curious and I felt like being polite. They're lining up over at Slytherin, but I let the first-years and second-years go first. That's why I'm over here."

"How nice of you," said Ginny sarcastically. Potter frowned, but he seemed set on ignoring Draco's rifts with the Weasleys.

"Actually…um, haven't really started yet." Potter glanced behind him at the group of nervous-looking Gryffindors who were gripping their brooms and intently listening to a seventh-year blonde girl in full uniform. He turned back to Draco. "I've got some old team members explaining the process to everyone. What they're going to have to do, what we're looking for, and so on."

"You sound worried," Draco observed. Potter hesitated.

"Guess I just want to get everything right. Be a good captain."

"You'll do fine, Harry," Ginny piped up, "You're brilliant at Quidditch and you're a natural leader." Potter glanced at her and smiled quickly.

"Thanks," he said shortly.

"It gets stressful," he said to Draco, leaving Ginny looking put-out, "Having to live up to everyone's expectations." Draco hadn't nearly enough time to interpret the meaning of this when Potter abruptly switched topics.

"By the way…thanks again for backing me up with the whole Quidditch thing. Couldn't have gotten away with it without your help." Ginny made a show at rolling her eyes, and Ron sighed loudly, but Draco wasn't paying attention to them.

"No big deal," he said softly, smiling, "I had my doubts, but I think you made the right call, Potter."

"I hope so."

Then, at once and as if set by alarm, the Weasleys cracked; unable to stand it a second longer.

"Are you mental?" Ron exclaimed. Simultaneously, Ginny threw her hands up into the air and shouted, "Oh _come_ on!"

"What?" Potter asked, completely taken off guard. His friends fought each other for the chance to speak.

"What are you thinking, Harry? You can't trust him! I don't know what's gotten into you lately. Frankly, Harry, you're scaring me. It's like you've become obsessed with the slimy little— "

"Harry, I think Ginny's right. Hermione agrees with me. She reckons he's up to something and-"

"You're not acting like yourself! Being all chummy with Malfoy, it's bad enough he's friends with Julianne! And…sharing with the _Slytherins_! What the hell is that all—"

"This is Malfoy, Harry, Malfoy. Do you get what that means anymore? This is the same bloke who's been nothing but an arse to us for years! Who you've always hated? Whose father is a first class Dea—"

"Will both of you shut up!" Potter shouted, clearly distressed, "Please. You're being ridiculous."

"Oh we're being ridiculous? Really?" Ginny said defiantly. Gone was the sickly sweetness of a few moments prior; she was in full battle-mode now.

"You don't understand," Potter insisted impatiently, "I've told you…Malfoy's different now, alright?" Both Ron and Ginny opened their mouths, ready to argue further, but at last, Draco spoke up. The pair of them looked over sharply, as if they'd forgotten he was standing there.

"Well," he said, in a quiet yet dangerous voice, unwilling, after all, to betray the turmoil going on in his head, "I'm sorry if my presence has caused you so much distress. I didn't realize that my talking to Potter was so offensive to you—"

"Malfoy," Potter interrupted with a sigh.

"No, no," Draco continued, seeming to be unable to stop himself, "I just want to say that you have nothing to worry about. Clearly, you've been wasting far too much time trying to…interpret my motives. But, as I said, you've been wasting your time. Potter and I are Potions Partners. As a result, I'm forced to speak with him. Trust me, I don't like him any more than I did last year, and I certainly don't like you any more than I did last year. The only thing that's changed is that I'm done with being so petty and childish. Frankly, we've outgrown this. If I'm going to fight, I'll fight where it counts, otherwise there's no point in fighting. And I have no desire to fail potions. So, again, sorry if you've found some great meaning or great threat behind… whatever you thought was going between Potter and me, because…you were wrong, and you can just forget about it." Draco looked at his audience, daring them to challenge him, but they were silent; speechless. Glancing at Potter, Draco saw an undistinguishable, altogether strange look in his eyes. Draco couldn't meet his gaze. He got the impression Potter wanted to say something, but he wasn't about to let him.

"I have to get back to my team. Aren't you supposed to be captain, Potter? Don't have Quidditch trials to run?" He found his voice bitter and sarcastic, and he hated himself for it. At that, Draco turned abruptly around and began to storm back off to where he came from, where, maybe, he should've stayed in the first place.

Draco was angry, humiliated, hurt. For a few moments afterward he felt satisfied having run away; left them all standing there open-mouthed and shocked. But not before long the regret started to seep in. He had only wanted to get back at Potter's stupid friends, and now, now… had he ruined everything? He felt that the Boy-Who-Lived, the boy with the beautiful green eyes, would surely hate him now, more than ever. He was such an idiot. After everything, he had to get pissed off and jealous and attack those stupid, stupid Weasleys who Potter loved so much, who Potter would always choose before him. This fact was painful but true nevertheless, and here it was, right before his eyes, staring him in the face. Draco felt tears sting at the corners of his eyes, but he bit his lip hard and blinked them away, far too furious at everything to cry.

* * *

_Duh duh duh duh! Cliffhanger! Alright guys, I'm kind of happy with myself for finishing another chapter in only a week, for, as I'm sure you've by now, I am notoriously bad at updating. So, I will be trying harder to get updates up this fast and keep the story moving. Thank you so much to everyone who's read and reviewed (and favorited and alerted, etc etc). You are what keeps me going and keeps me whole-heartedly invested in this story. Please keep it up! I love you all! And, in answer to some of the questions I got in comments…yes (sorry to everyone who didn't want it to be so and yay for people who did) this is going in the direction of a drarry slash. That was always my intention, if you didn't already know. And, yes, Liam and Julianne are both set to reappear soon. So stay tuned for the next installment of Conquering Loneliness!_


	15. An Important Conversation

"Hey! Hold up!" Draco heard the voice from behind him, not that far off and getting closer. He stubbornly ignored it, and kept walking.

"Oi! Malfoy!" came the voice again. Draco flinched and shut his eyes tight for a second. He took a shaky breath, and he began to slow down, but still, he could not manage to bring himself to a complete stop. He walked on at a consistently sluggish pace until he felt a strong hand grab his shoulder, none too gently, and spin him around.

"What the hell was that about?" demanded Harry Potter, green eyes blazing. He would've sounded angrier had he not been gasping for breath. He was bent over, one hand on his knee and the other still on Draco's shoulder, but he still succeeded in glaring at the blonde by craning his neck to what looked to be an uncomfortable angle. Draco simply stared at him, silent, his jaw clenched.

"Are you gonna say something or what?" Potter asked harshly, straightening up and staring Draco in the eye.

"What am I supposed to say?" said Draco indifferently. He was willing his voice not to crack, not to betray any sign of emotion. Potter frowned.

"Why did you say all that back there?" he repeated, more gently.

"What?"

"You know what I mean, Malfoy," he sighed, "Why did you say all that?"

"What do you mean, why?" Draco said coolly, "Your friends were attacking me. I was defending myself."

"What Ron and Ginny said was out of line," Potter admitted, "But I think you're overreacting just a bit."

"Overreacting?" Draco said, getting angry, "_I'm_ overreacting? I didn't do anything to them, Potter. And I haven't done anything to you either, for that matter. Was I supposed to just stand there and watch them tell you not to trust me, because _Merlin_ knows how much of a threat I am?" Draco found himself holding clenched fists, his fingernails digging into his palms.

"It's hard to get past five solid years of dislike, Malfoy," Potter said after a moment, hesitantly, almost apologetically.

"Clearly!" Draco scoffed. Potter's brow furrowed. He seemed to be searching for the right words.

"No…" he said, faltering, "I mean, it's all they… _know_ not to trust you." Draco, with no patience to interpret Potter's riddles, grew frustrated.

"Potter, why are you even here?" he exclaimed, hostility in his voice, "Don't your friends miss you?"

"Why do you care so much what they think?" Potter asked, all of a sudden. Draco was caught off guard, and at a loss how to respond.

"What, you don't hate me too?" he said at last, sarcastically. He was not prepared to reveal the powerful fear that question held for him in actuality, this moment more than ever. Potter's eyes widened behind his round glasses, which still sparkled with new raindrops. They seemed to search Draco's face, as if for an answer. Self-conscious, Draco moved his gaze to another glistening green: of the field, rather than Potter's eyes. There was a prolonged, torturous pause before Potter finally responded.

"I don't hate you, Malfoy." Draco looked up at him abruptly, like a reflex, but just quickly he looked down again. He needed to play this carefully.

"Really?" he said quietly, contemplatively, and then, after a moment, "Why not?"

"Because you're different now. I can't explain it…" he trailed off, staring at Draco, and then quickly added, "And I'm not expecting you to explain it to me either, okay? I'm honestly just trying to go with it. You're not the same, let's be honest… _prick_, I've known for five years. I don't know what happened, but…I've got no reason to hate you, Malfoy. Not anymore. So why should I?"

Draco stared at him for a moment, thinking. _Why should I?_ It was a rhetorical question, but Draco couldn't help but worry about the answers he could still give. In any account, he wasn't about to give them. He wasn't about to make Harry Potter hate him, not now that he had said, and miraculously so, in Draco's eyes, that he didn't.

"Thanks," Draco said, because he couldn't think of anything better to say.

"Look, Malfoy… Ron and Ginny and Hermione are going to think what they want. But…I do have a mind of my own, you know."

"Could've fooled me, Potter," Draco said, unable to resist. Potter smirked.

"Ha ha. Very funny. But seriously… I don't hate you, and my friends aren't about to convince me otherwise. I think I've made up my mind about you, and if they don't get it, then it's their loss…and they sure as hell can't do anything about it."

"How do you know they're not right, though?" Draco said slyly, only half-joking, "Maybe you shouldn't trust me. My record isn't clean." Potter didn't smile, but said to him, in all seriousness:

"I trust my instincts, Malfoy. They've gotten me out of a lot of bad situations and saved my life more than once. And…my gut instinct is telling me you've changed, and that this…something good's come from this, whatever… _freak_ occurrence of nature this is," Potter smiled, "So that's why."

"Yeah, can't exactly blame people for thinking we've gone mad. Considering we've been at each other's throats everyday for five years."

"Exactly. We must be giving them whiplash."

"Chances of them surviving the shock…eh… not so high," Draco joked. Potter grinned and playfully shoved Draco's shoulder.

"Hey! I'm sure they'll adapt. A little change is good once in a while. Shakes things up. Makes it interesting." Potter gave him a cocky, one-sided grin. _Interesting_, Draco thought.

"You're not the only one who's getting shit about this, you know?" he said casually, "Before, Beef- er the Slytherin captain… Smeler, basically accused me of base-end treachery for backing you up on the whole sharing thing."

"I'm sorry?" Potter said, bemused. Draco smirked.

"You think I give a damn? Potter, Smeler's as dumb as a brick. I couldn't care less how he feels about me talking to you."

"Why'd you bring it up then?" Potter asked. Draco shrugged.

"I dunno."

"Do you regret going along with the idea, then?" Potter guessed, heating up, "Because I didn't force you into anything, Malfoy. You can't say that was my fault."

"You don't have to get so defensive, Potter," Draco said calmly, "I didn't mean it like that. I still think this was a good idea, and I'm glad I helped you out. I guess I was just thinking out loud."

"Thinking about what?" Draco sighed.

"Potter, I think the difference between you and me is that your friends tell you not to trust me because they want to protect you. Smeler and the Slytherins…they only say that because they hate you, on, like, some innate level, by principle, and its not because they care about me. They get it in their heads that I'm a traitor… just because of some stupid rivalry. They don't know me…and they sure as hell don't know you, so as far as I'm concerned, Potter, I don't care what they say or think or try to do," Draco said, and then, in a lighter tone, "I'm smarter than most of them anyway. If need be, I could duel them with both hands tied behind my back." Potter smiled at Draco's jibe, but he looked somewhat troubled.

"You didn't seem to be thinking that before," Potter said, looking down at his trainers, "That you didn't care. What was all that about how you can't stand me any more now than last year? To Ron and Ginny?" Draco's heart beat loudly in his chest.

"I got angry," he said, simply and honestly, "I reacted without thinking. It was childish and stupid and I didn't mean it."

"Last year, you would've said those same things about me without a second thought," Potter pointed out.

"Last year," said Draco, "I would've said worse."

"True," Potter smirked.

"But it's not last year. So…I'm sorry." Draco looked up at Potter, waiting for a reaction to what he realized was probably the closest thing to a genuine apology he'd ever made. To Draco's surprise, Potter laughed out loud.

"To think I've waited six years to hear you say that!" Draco smiled self-deprecatingly and pushed a hand through his now sopping wet hair. He'd been so caught up in his conversation with Potter that he hadn't even noticed his umbrella charm wear off. He found this somehow funny- how Potter had taken a more prominent place in his mind than his own physical comfort. He noticed his wet hair and clothes, but he did not bother to cast another spell to right them. When he shivered, he knew it wasn't entirely from the cold.

"Well, just don't get used to it, Potter." When Potter ceased laughing, his face relaxing to smooth the crinkles at the corners of his eyes, he met Draco's eye, and a moment of silence and apparent understanding passed between them. Then, Potter held out his hand to Draco.

"So, we're cool then?" he said amiably. Draco smiled.

"Yeah, we're cool." He reached over and took Potter's hand, squeezing firmly and pumping once shortly before releasing it, and letting his own hand drop to his side. His fingers continued to tingle, as if by electricity, from Potter's touch.

"Don't you have Quidditch trials, Potter?" Draco asked, for the second time that morning, though in an entirely different tone than before. Potter glanced quickly behind him, seemed to panic slightly, and said:

"Fuck. Why did they give me this job again? I seem to be failing miserably already."

"You'll be fine," Draco said, "Just go, go! As if they didn't hate me already." Potter sighed, but didn't argue.

"Alright, I'm gonna run, but I'll see you later?" Potter asked while moving away slowly, walking backwards. Draco nodded.

"See you around, Potter," he said, with a wave. Potter smiled shortly and then he turned around and sprinted off towards the rest of his team, his trainers kicking up the wet dirt as he ran. Draco followed the tracks with his eyes as they sprang up under Potter's feet. As he did so, his mind wandered and he wondered vaguely whether they could be a path he was meant to follow. Dismissing this as a silly, idle idea, he too turned around and walked back to his team, where the try-out line he'd previously vacated had grown considerably shorter. He picked up his broom from where he'd left it leaning against the stands, and he rejoined the line. Unsurprisingly, he noticed a few Slytherins giving him dirty looks. They'd obviously seen him with Potter. But, Draco glared right back at them until they were forced to look away, and he waited, taking the time to think about what had just happened.

They were friends, Draco thought, and though the word tasted strange and foreign in his mouth, there was no other explanation for it. Who would've thought? And then, after coming to that realization, Draco began to think, well, _what now?_ Whatever Potter said, Granger and the Weasleys certainly weren't going to be happy, and of course the Slytherins wouldn't be either. That, Draco presumed, he could deal with. But… Merlin forbid if Draco's father ever found out about this…or the Dark Lord. What excuse could Draco have for him?

He didn't have to know. It didn't have to be anyone's business but his own, and Potter's. This…friendship with Potter, or whatever it was, was going to be complicated. Draco had no doubt. Still, he agreed with Potter. Somehow it seemed like it would all be worth it.

Would he really be willing to sacrifice that much…for Potter?

Draco frowned and shook his head. He didn't know, and not knowing made him frustrated, and thinking about it all in that gravity made him panic. He took a deep breath. He would just have to go with it, as Potter said. There was no better option. Despite all the risks, all their baggage…he would be friends with Potter- the boy who infuriated and confused and excited him, all at once.

Upon making this decision, Draco relaxed, just a little. Action is easier when you put thought to rest. He brought his attention instead to the on-going Quidditch trials. He neared the front of the line, and eagerly he awaited the chance to take to the sky. The physical exertion, the competition, the distraction- These were all things he needed very much at the moment.

"Malfoy!" he heard Beefy's gruff voice, "You're up!"

Draco smiled a private kind of smile as he stepped forward. With a curt nod to Beefy, he mounted his Nimbus and kicked off into the air. In doing so, a rush of energy and exhilaration filled him. It was as if he had left all his troubles behind him in the grass and mud.

He soared forward, starting to run the required lap around the field. He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the cool air rush against his skin. For maybe the first time in his life, he understood what all the fuss about flying was. He supposed this was why Potter loved it so much. It was like… freedom. It was such a relief.

But still, Draco knew, eventually he'd have to come back to earth. He'd have to face reality. And with Harry Potter to add to his already overwhelming dose of that reality, Draco knew it wasn't going to be easy. But he'd have to try anyway, wouldn't he? So Draco kept on flying, and his reality loomed, dark and massive as the cloud that overtook the sky that rainy day, terrifying, and yet, beautiful.

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_So yeah! New chappie, and I've been keeping my promise and updating every week. Sorry to those who wish chapters were longer, but I usually just try to concentrate on one event, and end the chapter at the logical end or pause in that event. On my computer, the chapters end up being 5 to 8 pages usually. So...I guess the option is shorter and more often, or longer and less often? I like the first one, how bout you? Thank you all for reading and reviewing! Reviews make me very happy, especially those longer, constructive ones, and I'll probably start writing comments to reviews on a more individual basis, like I've seen some authors do, cuz you guys really deserve it. Thank you for your support and I'll get the next chapter up soon! If you write a review, you get a free chocolate frog! Who doesn't like chocolate frogs? Come on! Everybody does! :)_


	16. An Indiscreet Stalker

Once Draco had passed the preliminary flight test of his try-out, as of course he knew he would, Beefy whistled for him to come down. He swooped towards Beefy and hovered a few feet above him, expecting further instruction. Instead, Beefy said:

"Okay, you're through, Malfoy."

"What? That's it?" Draco asked, honestly bewildered. Despite his getting back on the team each consecutive year, Draco had always had to go through the full ordeal during auditions.

Smeler lowered his voice to a hissing whisper. "You know it's just for show anyway. So the newbies won't throw a fit."

"Yeah, but…" Draco said, not entirely sure why he was arguing.

"Are you really complaining?" Smeler scoffed, evidently annoyed, "Because if you want me to so bad maybe I'll change my mind."

"No, that's alright," said Draco quickly.

"Good. 'Cause you're a good enough seeker as is. Don't need to waste time looking for another one. Got enough to deal with."

"So…can I go?" Draco asked, already looking forward to the unexpected free time and beginning to plan what he would do upon returning to the dormitories. But Smeler had other ideas. He smiled nastily.

"Well, since you asked so nice…why don't you make yourself useful, Malfoy?"

Normally, Malfoy would refuse point blank, but this seemed to be one occasion where Smeler actually held power over him. He couldn't say no without risking his position on the team, and by some miracle the idiot had figured that out and was keen on using it against him.

"Okay…" Draco said, "What should I do…Captain?" Draco smiled innocently.

"Go around and keep the newbies in line. Report back to me who's rubbish and who isn't."

"You can't do that yourself?"

"Not for all of them. There's too many!" Smeler stammered indignantly, "I can't split myself in half!"

"Yet, somehow you've managed to split your brain capacity in half," Draco mumbled, under his breath.

"Whatdja say?" Beefy demanded.

"Nothing, nothing," said Draco. Beefy looked confused.

"Er…I was just saying that I don't have eyes in the back of my head."

"You probably did at one point, and now they're off somewhere with the rest of your brain," Draco murmured again, at a loss to stop himself. Beefy's not-unsubstantial nostrils flared.

"What was that?" he said, even more loudly than before.

"Nothing, absolutely nothing."

"I don't believe you," Smeler growled, "I'll let you get away with it this time, but you better be more careful about what you say. That's a warning, Malfoy."

"Okay," Draco said calmly, "So…newbies? Watch them." Beefy piped up.

"And tell me if-!"

"If they suck or not. Yeah, got it." And before Beefy could get out another word, Draco flew up and away.

Though it wasn't his preferred way of spending time, Draco had fun up amongst the students. Aside from breaking up a couple of fights and relaying instructions to them from Beefy, Draco was free to just float about, think, and watch the people around him.

Most particularly, he found himself glancing towards the other side of the field, where the Gryffindors were running their trials. He followed Potter with his eyes. There he was, on the ground, sending away a group of giggling Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff girls, who'd somehow shown up at the Gryffindor Quidditch try-outs. There Potter was again, up in the air, his cloak whipping behind him, chasing after a terrified-looking girl, probably a first year, who'd apparently lost control of her broom. Draco watched as he coaxed her back to the ground and instructed another student to escort her back to the castle. Potter turned around, already looking very tired. Draco wondered how exhausting it must be to be Quidditch captain. Personally, Draco doubted he could do it, though he'd never admit that to anyone, most especially Potter. Then again, Draco had had to deal with more than the fair amount of stress lately, so who was to say he couldn't handle one more thing on his plate. He sighed heavily.

Now, Potter was speaking to Weasley, clearly exasperated. Weasley looked as one does right before beginning to vomit slugs. Namely, he looked ready to hurl. Potter had put his hand on Weasley's shoulder, and was apparently trying to talk him into something. Finally, Weasley nodded stiffly, mounted his broomstick, and soared off towards the goalposts on that side of the field. He stopped, appearing vaguely panicked, hovering near a cocky-looking blond boy, who paused to flash a sickening smile to the stands, where a dozen or so people sat and watched the proceedings. Draco couldn't make out who Mr. Obnoxious had aimed the grin at, but he found himself feeling sorry for the poor girl who was forced to receive his attentions.

Potter was back in the air, calling something out to Ginny, who promptly began to hurl a quaffle in the direction of the goalposts, snapping Weasley and Blondie to attention. They scrambled, each occupying a separate ring. Mr. Obnoxious blocked Ginny's first throw with a casual turn of his broomstick and a flash of his hand. He leered in the direction of the stands again, this time accompanying it with a dramatic and nauseating wink. Draco had to laugh when the next quaffle, thrown by a smirking Ginny, caught Blondie unawares. It didn't get through the goal, but that was only because instead it socked him right in the stomach. He was knocked backwards a foot by the force of the blow, and he kneeled over the front of his broom, clutching his middle. Both Potter and Weasley seemed pleased about this new development.

Blondie recovered more quickly than Draco would've liked, coming up from his bend with a mean grimace. And so the keeper runs continued.

Blondie wasn't bad, Draco determined, albeit reluctantly. His previous accident seemed to instill in him a fiery enthusiasm to not only block the quaffles, but to knock them into oblivion. With each save he made, he grunted, nodded, and lifted his chin cockily as if to say "You want more?".

Meanwhile, Weasley continued to look petrified, and his competition wasn't helping that any. Shockingly, though, Weasley stood his ground. He looked at each flying ball like it was his incoming death, but he managed to block everything that came his way, sometimes by just the slightest chance or lucky swerve. And every time he made a successful block, he never failed to look shocked. Completely, totally shocked.

A year ago Draco would've laughed at Weasley- laughed at the look on his face every time he made a save, laughed at the way his Quidditch gear was two sizes too small, or how Blondie had so much more skill than him, and he would only get on the team because he was Potter's mate. Draco had been pretty vicious in Quidditch years past, he remembered. He'd made up that stupid song about Weasley, and spread it among the Slytherins to sing at their games. It seemed funny at the time, but, in retrospect, it had been kind of cruel. He'd gone and jabbed at everything Weasley cared about and worried over- his Quidditch skill, his lack of money, his family. When he had tired that out, he moved on to Potter, his favorite target, though, admittedly, one that always fought back. There was no line Draco wouldn't cross, and it had been hardly a surprise when, after a disappointing Slytherin loss, Draco had provoked Weasley's brothers, the twins, and Harry Potter to the point of an open brawl- no magic, just fists. Fighting like muggles, Draco had scoffed at the time, but now he thought, no….fighting like people who have passion, who care about things. When that fight happened, that was more than Draco could say for himself. He remembered feeling cold and detached when the fight broke out, and smug when that Umbridge woman punished them and not him.

If anything, he was a bit pissed off that he'd gotten a bloody nose, a bit regretful that he'd gone and picked a fight without Crabbe and Goyle behind him, and a bit flustered by the fact that Potter had seemed ready to jump him (to beat him senseless, no doubt, but hey, Draco was a teenage boy, after all). That fight had gotten Potter and the Weasleys banned from Quidditch for the rest of the year. While he acted quite pleased with this, every game afterwards Draco hadn't been able to shake the feeling of something significant being missing. Quidditch was a lot less interesting without Potter around.

Watching the keeper trials now, Draco couldn't help but think he'd been wrong to judge Weasley so harshly in the past. Weasley wasn't a bad keeper, he could see that, he just had ridiculously bad nerves- almost impossible to shake or forget, and not at all helped by Draco's stupid song. It had backfired anyway, Draco recalled with a smirk. The Gryffindors had flipped its meaning around, and had, so to say, made Weasley their king.

Potter, naturally, knew Weasley's weakness, and Draco could see the tension in Potter's body as each quaffle neared Weasley's goalpost. His jaw was clenched, the grip on his Firebolt was tight. He wanted so badly for Weasley to do well, and not to let his nerves get the best of him. Of course Potter wanted Weasley on the team- he was his best mate and Blondie was an ass, but that didn't mean Potter wasn't going to run a fair trial. Despite all of Draco's past claims to the contrary, he knew it would be highly unlike Potter to put someone on the team if he didn't feel that they entirely deserved the spot. But, still, Potter could help his friends out, and he could hope for their success.

Finally came the moment of truth. Weasley and Mr. Obnoxious were even, having each blocked every pass. This was going to be the last set, which would hopefully break the tie. Everyone was tense as Ginny wound back her thin arms ceremoniously and hurled the quaffle with surprising strength towards Blondie's goalpost. The boy was locked in concentration, eyes following the flying ball, hands poised on his broom, ready to swerve. He's going to block it, Draco thought, for sure. Weasley and Potter's faces seemed to fall as they thought the same thing.

However, at the very last instant, when the quaffle was within a few feet of the waiting Blondie, his focus somehow broke. His face went blank for a second, and was then replaced by confusion. In a sudden move that seemed apart from his control, Blondie's broom jerked to the left….and the quaffle soared over his right shoulder, directly through the goalpost.

There was a drawn-out moment of shocked silence. A glimmer of triumph shot over Weasley's face; Potter was suppressing a smirk; Ginny was openly grinning. Mr. Obnoxious blinked, his mouth gaping. He looked blankly at his hands, he glanced behind himself at the ring. He didn't seem to comprehend what had just happened.

Neither did Draco, actually. What _was_ that? Blondie had been totally focused, looking straight at the ball, and then, out of nowhere, he'd flown in the opposite direction. Draco found himself suspicious. Had someone interfered? Vaguely, he glanced out at the bleachers. …it was a possibility.

Draco looked back towards the field, where Potter had finally broken the silence. He'd awoken Blondie from his stupor, and Blondie did not look happy. Almost without realizing it, Draco flew closer to the scene, desperately curious to hear what they were saying.

"…that's all I need to see, McLaggen," Potter was saying, "We'll let you know." Potter waited a moment, nodded, and then began to fly away. Evidently not accepting the brush-off, Blondie flew right up into Potter's face, demanding his attention. Potter hardly flinched, nose-to-nose with the menacing boy, but his shoulders grew tense, and a cold line drew into his face.

"So…_what_, Potter?" he growled, "Am I out, is that it?" Potter neither said nor betrayed anything, so Blondie continued. "Ginger over there gets my spot, does he?"

"We'll let you know," Potter repeated, "_Goodbye_, McLaggen." Once again, Potter turned to move away, but McLaggen lurched forward and shoved Potter on the shoulder, hard. Draco flinched at the impact, and found himself resisting the urge to barge in and give the stupid fugger a piece of his mind. From the look on his face, Potter seemed to be thinking along the same lines, but he restrained himself.

"You know what?" Blondie said after the shove, "No, no! I'm not gonna stand for this kind of crap, Potter. I am _every ounce _the keeper that Ginger is! You're only keeping him on because he's your mate! Or-or because he managed to save a few lousy balls last year!"

"I judge based on the trial. Ron saved every pass that you did."

"Bloody luck, if you ask me!"

"You, meanwhile, let in the last one." Blondie blanched.

"I-" he faltered, "I don't-eh…it was a faulty pitch."

"The pitch was perfectly fine, McLaggen. I saw it."

"Well…I-"Blondie stammered, but then gestured to Weasley again, "Well, I bet he won't do so well out on the field, mind you!"

"Well, we'll just have to see, now won't we?" Potter said, with a hint of a smile, "Goodbye, McLaggen." Blondie seemed ready to speak up again, but instead he scowled, and began to slowly draw back.

"Screw this," he mumbled, and then called out, "You don't know what you're doing! I could play every position on this team better than whoever you're getting to do it! I could be better blindfolded! With my hands tied behind my back! You'll regret this, Potter!"

"I'm sure I will, Cormac," Potter sighed with exaggerated solemnity, "Though, I have to admit, you really aren't helping your chances." Blondie didn't respond, and Draco couldn't see his face to catch a reaction, but he could guess. Draco turned from Blondie's retreating back and saw Potter return to Weasley. He smiled.

"Alright, Ron, last throw," he said, and Weasley nodded shakily, "You can do this. We both know you can. Just relax." He offered Ron a comforting smile, and then gestured to Ginny, who grinned and threw the quaffle high in the air. Weasley's face was rapt with concentration, his hands tensing on his broom. Personally, Draco couldn't understand it. After witnessing the fiasco with Blondie, did Weasley seriously not think he was getting the spot? To Draco, it was more than obvious. Really, even a last throw was unnecessary. Still, Potter with his sportsmanship and Weasley with his thickheaded-ness went on with it regardless.

Draco, being much preoccupied by the ongoing scene, had become rather oblivious to what else was going on around him. At that moment, anyone could look at him and notice immediately that he was staring quite obviously at Potter. This could be interpreted in any number of ways, none of them very advantageous to Draco. But he did not care. He was content in his watching, and nothing could faze him.

As expected, Weasley blocked the quaffle (with his head, actually, doing a ridiculous sort of aerial spin), and he pumped his fist into the air, grinning widely. Potter and Ginny flew towards him, and were congratulating him on a job well done. Just when Draco thought the show must be over, Potter turned suddenly, as if he'd heard his name called.

For a split second, Draco panicked. He had no reason for where he was in this moment. No explanation at all for why he was staring. It had to look bad. Would he be called a spy? A stalker? Some sort of freak? Did he have the time to fly away, turn abruptly in another direction? Would that be too obvious?

When it came down to it, he did none of that. He didn't have time to do anything but look blank and then surprised when Potter met his eyes. Potter spotted him quickly, a look of confusion passing over his face. Slowly, he raised his hand in a kind of awkward wave, mixed with a shrug. Draco found himself opening his mouth, to make an excuse he did not have, but he shortly closed it with a grimace, nodded at Potter, and made to fly away. He had barely registered his horror and humiliation from the event when, as he turned, he spotted a flash of alarm in Potter's face. Potter opened his mouth, as if to shout something, a warning. He was looking over Draco's shoulder. Slowly, too slowly, Draco turned around.

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_A/N: OOooo! suspense! Haha. The next chapter is almost entirely done, but I wanted to post something so I split it in half, and here you have it! Sorry for the wait! It was christmas and my long distance boyfriend visited and I was busy etc etc. Expect an update soon though! And expect things to really start heating up between Draco and Harry! Yay! As always, thank you for everyone who's stuck with me through this story and those of you who might be new readers. My commenters, favoritors, subcribers, and so on and so forth. You make this possible and I can't thank you enough. Please continue to let me know what you think (constructive and detailed reviews are the best!). I love you all! Happy New Year! _


	17. A Compromising Position

New chapter! Okay, I spilt this one and the next one into two, so I'll be updating once I get...say...10 or 15 reviews? Ahh I hate bribing you guys but I like reviews! Thank you for reading and sticking with me and subcribing and reviewing and favoriteing! I appreciate you all so much! I worked really hard on this chapter (and the next) and a lot of exciting things are happening. I always promised a slow burn, but I promise there's going to be a huge payoff not so far down the line. And someone said something about not incorporating his Death Eater duties (you know the ones) into the story enough, and to that I say I'm trying to get to everything. Play with the major events in the 6th book, plus my OCs, plus the main storyline. I will be (and have been) trying to include all of it in sections, with the Draco/Harry romance the focal point. Thank you for being patient, at any rate! Okay, super long author's note finished! Enjoy! 3

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Draco's eyes widened, and he saw it coming for two seconds- just two seconds- before something slammed into him from behind. Then, he was soaring, flying fast through the air. Exhilaration coursed through him, at which point he realized he had lost control. He was flipping and spinning wildly, no telling which way was up and which was down. Was his broom even beneath him anymore? He had no idea. Rendering his eyes useless, he squeezed them shut. He felt the wind whip his hair and his face, and also, he found, he felt a warm, soft weight against him, gripping him tight. His mind was so flustered he couldn't even start to resister what it could be until he hit the ground.

Draco knew it was the ground, because it was hard, and slippery, and grassy, but he wasn't thinking much about that as he tumbled and skidded along. Several seconds after the initial crash, he gradually came to a rest, limbs sprawled out beneath him, face down in the mud.

He had lain still only a few moments, breathed just a couple of breaths, before the pain registered. He hadn't even moved yet, and his body ached like he'd just run a marathon. His palms stung, his back and chest were throbbing, and there was a particularly searing pain coming from his left calf. He was almost afraid to look, but he slowly opened his eyes.

Cautiously, Draco lifted his head from the mud, his neck feebly protesting. Unceremoniously, he spit onto the ground, bringing up a mouthful of what looked like soggy dirt, blades of grass, and blood. He frowned and wrinkled his nose in distaste. Slowly he dragged his hands to a position under his shoulders, briefly cataloging the ugly red scratches on his palms, and pushed.

Only, when he did so, he couldn't lift himself more than an inch off the ground. His elbows buckled. He sank back down with a huff. Apparently, something was holding him there. He forced himself to concentrate through the haze, trying to distinguish the specific problem from his general discomfort. It took him a good moment but…there it was, whatever it was, on top of his back. That same heavy, warm, soft thing that he'd felt in the air was pressing into him. Draco's mind was still quite blurry from the crash, and he struggled to think clearly. The weight stirred. It moved, albeit feebly, on Draco's back. He heard a steady beating, a soft groan, gentle breathing. The thoughts in Draco's head formed themselves and grew steadily into a conclusion: A person! A person, somehow, for some reason, was laying on Draco's back.

This assessment only served to baffle Draco more. Try as he might, he simply could not come up with a suitable explanation for how this came to be. Him, face down on the ground, and someone, no clue who, on top of him. His mind failing him, he decided to gather more information.

Since his arms had failed him, Draco tried another method. He braced himself, gritted his teeth… and rolled over. It took a minute, and he almost gasped from the pain it caused, but it did the trick. The person on his back was fairly light, and they did not fight or resist in any way Draco could tell. Having successfully flipped over and freed himself from the body's suffocating weight, Draco was triumphant. That is, until he looked down.

Sure enough, there, lying beneath Draco, eyes closed and glasses askew, was none other than Harry Potter. His wet hair was plastered to his forehead and a fresh cut slashed across his cheek. His pink, chapped lips were slightly parted. He breathed softly, inhaling and exhaling from his open mouth. Draco could see his breath. He looked like he was sleeping.

That certainly snapped Draco out of his stupor. Time seemed to freeze. He blanched, his mouth gaping, his mind racing a million miles a minute. His first thought was to jump up immediately, but yet he couldn't bring himself to move a muscle. This was partly because he didn't want to disturb Potter (and was afraid of his reaction to this), partly because it hurt too much, and partly because, he struggled to admit, he found this position intriguing.

Draco thought about how he'd never been this close to Potter before. Sure, whilst fighting they'd come pretty near each other, but this was something entirely different. Their faces were just inches apart. Their legs were intertwined. Their chests were pressed together. Draco could feel Potter breathing against him; he could hear Potter's heartbeat next to his own. He was close enough to touch Potter's hair, to trace the lightening scar with the tip of a finger. He was close enough to smell Potter, even: a strangely intoxicating mix of soap, and sweat, and rain. He found himself breathing deeply, taking it in. Draco closed his eyes. He felt he could lay his head down on Potter's chest and sleep there on the field right then, just like that. He could think of nothing else but the boy below him, pain and circumstance all but forgotten.

Then, as Draco stared down at him, Potter moved. His nose twitched, he took a sudden sharp breath, and he opened his eyes. Draco couldn't move, couldn't react at all, as Potter blinked once, twice. Draco waited patiently, almost too calmly, for Potter to realize. It took a moment. Potter's emerald eyes met Draco's silver ones, and Draco watched as several emotions passed quickly over the boy's face. First bemusement, then a slowly dawning understanding, followed by a burst of panic, and then….something like…wonder? Or resignation? Or was it something else entirely? For a while, their gaze bore into each other, intense and full of unspoken questions. Neither moved, nor said anything. They just breathed, lost in that one moment.

"Merlin's beard! Harry, are you all right?" The moment broke. Draco realized where he was, what he was doing. The questions came to him of how the hell did he get here, and what had just happened, and what could it mean. The same things seemed to be occurring to Potter in that instant, as the fog faded, and they ceased their eye contact. Before he could move himself, Draco felt something push him, none too lightly, off Potter and onto the grass.

"Get off him, Malfoy!" came a harsh shout.

"Harry, Harry! Did he do something to you?" demanded someone else.

Anger pulsed through Draco's veins. He blinked up at the crowd that was beginning to surround them, trying to make sense of it all. He glanced towards the boy who now lay a few feet from him, with Ginny and Weasley kneeling over him and others looking on anxiously. Draco felt a sharp sense of loss, for no reason he could make clear. Potter was looking up and around in confusion, eyes darting from face to face, mouth forming the beginnings of unvoiced words as they all fretted over him. By this point, almost all the former Gryffindor Quidditch team, several newbies, and a number of people from the stands had rushed to Potter's side. Draco noticed Granger, her brow creased with worry, breathing heavy. Draco assumed she'd been watching the trials and she'd run straight over. All these people… here for Potter. Potter… their friend and their savior, Draco thought, not without bitterness. No one looked to see if Draco was alright. If they gave him a glance, it was one of suspicion and contempt. Draco felt very alone.

He was just ready to drag himself up off the ground and walk away when Potter finally found words.

"What-?" he faltered, the crowd falling silent to listen, "What happened?" His eyes were wide behind his glasses as he searched each face for answers. His eyes met Draco's, just for a moment, before someone spoke up.

"We were hoping you could tell us that, Harry," said one of the Weasley twins (Draco couldn't tell which), with a hint of a smile.

"Yeah," piped up the other twin, "There we were, just going about our business, when you come crashing into the ground with Malfoy over there." He gestured with his thumb.

"That was quite a landing, Harry-"

"Yes, we're all _very_ impressed."

"You must've took a nosedive fifty feet!"

"Good thing you had Malfoy to break your fall, eh?" The twins laughed at their joke, and some of the others joined in, grateful for the break in the tension. Granger, meanwhile, shot them a dirty look and went to join Weasley and Ginny at Potter's side. She took his hand, brushed back his hair, and _tsked_ over the cut on his face.

"I think the_ important_ thing is that Harry is alright," she said, with a disapproving air, "Are you okay, Harry? You should really go to the infirmary." Potter squinted at her.

"I'm fine, Hermione. It's no big deal. Seriously." As if to prove his point, he pushed up on his elbows and eased himself into a sitting position. Aside from his clenched jaw, he showed no sign he was in pain. He gave her a (somewhat forced) smile. "See? Fine."

Granger, always the skeptic, frowned and said, "I'm not so sure. You should really get checked out, just to be careful. I mean, you hit the ground pretty hard. You might have a concussion and not know it."

"A what?" asked Weasley. Granger turned to him.

"A concussion, Ron?" No response. "A concussion," she insisted, with growing exasperation, "You know…when you hit your head and- you know what…never mind." Draco didn't know what she was talking about either, but Weasley simply shrugged and looked back towards Potter. Draco supposed that kind of thing happened a lot. Potter nodded though.

"Please," Granger was saying to him, "Just promise me you'll go, just to be safe."

"Better listen to her, Harry," said Weasley with a knowing smile. Potter sighed.

"Fine, alright. I'll go," he agreed reluctantly, "But after try-outs. Now, everyone get back to your posts. Let's finish this thing. We don't have the field all day, after all, and we still need our Gryffindor Quidditch team. So…" Potter made an attempt to get to his feet, but Ginny. who'd kept silent for awhile, held him down with a firm hand on his chest.

"Before we do that…I think we'd all like to know what happened back there," she said, shooting Draco a less-than-discreet accusatory look.

"Can you even remember, Harry?" fretted Granger, "Because memory loss is a common symptom of-"

"No, no, I remember," Potter said quickly, "It took me a minute after the fall, but I remember now. " His eyes shot towards Draco's again, just for the smallest instant, but it didn't escape Draco's notice. He waited for Potter's explanation.

"And…?" Ginny coaxed, and Draco felt a stab of annoyance that he tried his best to ignore. He concentrated on Potter, who seemed to be thinking hard. Draco and the crowd waited as patiently as they could.

"Malfoy didn't do anything," Potter burst out suddenly. Draco's eyes widened. "I know that's what you're all thinking, but I can tell you…he didn't do anything."

"If he didn't do anything, then what was it?" demanded Ginny, now standing, hands on her hips.

"I was getting to that," retorted Potter, impatiently waving her away. She frowned and crossed her arms. Draco felt something resembling thrill rush through him. Meanwhile, Potter's expression had changed. When he next spoke, his brow was furrowed and he had an angry smirk on his face. "It was… McLaggen. I had just dismissed him from keeper try-outs. He stormed off. Next thing I know, he's across the field with a beater's bat, swinging it around like some lunatic, and hitting a bludger that was headed right towards the back of Malfoy's head. I saw it flying towards him, and I tried to give him a heads-up, but I don't think he heard me. So, without really thinking, I just flew straight at him, tried to knock him out of the way. We missed the bludger, got the ground. I think I blacked out, hit my head. Then…I came out of it and you were all here."

"McLaggen?" said Granger, with an expression of distaste, "Why would he- what would _compel_ someone to do that?"

"I think he was trying to show off. Well, uh, Ron…I can tell you your chances for keeper are looking pretty good right about now." He gave Weasley a joking smile. Then, his expression shifted, and he turned to Draco. He seemed to hesitate. "Are- are you alright, Malfoy?"

Now, they all looked at him. Now, they paid him attention. Draco found it almost comical, how shocked they were that Potter would ask about Draco Malfoy's well-being, that he would care. Potter didn't acknowledge this reaction, though. He was looking straight at Draco, unwavering. At that moment, it seemed like they were the only two people on the field.

"I'm-" Draco's voice came out in a croak, and he cleared his throat, "I'm fine. Really. Er…thanks for that. You didn't have to. I should've been paying closer attention."

"Don't apologize. It was McLaggen's fault. He's a complete idiot."

"So it would appear…" Draco said, and he smirked, "Potter… always playing the hero." Potter rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah. And look where it gets me. I wasn't thinking! I just saw it coming, and…reacted."

"Interesting reaction."

"It was the first thing that came to mind. Believe me, I wasn't aiming for a free fall and a crash landing."

"Right." All Draco could think about was what had happened immediately after the crash landing. Inquisitive, wary eyes looked between the two of them, but yet no one spoke. Draco wondered if Potter was thinking along the same lines he was. Something had definitely passed between them back there. Draco couldn't have been imagining it, could he? He was also amazed that Potter had put himself on the line for him, had literally thrown himself in front of a speeding bludger. The gesture was…irrational, maybe, but recognized none the less. Thoughts of knights in shining armor found their way inexplicably into Draco's head. Absolutely ridiculous, Draco thought, brushing them away, somewhat disgusted with himself.

The initial pause that followed Draco's comment grew uncomfortable with the passing seconds, and Draco was prepared to say something else, anything else, if only to fill the silence, when the last person he would've expected to see came bounding towards him.


	18. An Old Face and a New Era

Hey! New Chapter! Just like I promised! Thanks for all your support and please tell me what you think! Love you all and enjoy! Very exciting chapter! Hope you like it. :)

* * *

Draco could barely conceal the shock on his face as Liam Corey, 6th year Hufflepuff and Draco's biggest secret, drew nearer and nearer. Raw, unadulterated emotion was manifest in his face. _No_, Draco thought, _no_. Liam had always been an open book, but Draco had made it clear, many times, that this was not okay. No one knew about their relationship, no one even knew they knew each other. They saw each other at night, in private places, and only when Draco wanted to. If they passed in the halls, no acknowledgment was to be given beyond maybe a short nod of the head, if that. This was too public, far too public, and with the look on Liam's face, what would people think? Would they be able to tell? It was Draco's worst fear realized. Worse still… what would Potter think? The thought of him knowing…_anything_ about this part of Draco's life was too difficult to imagine.

He felt suddenly angry- at Liam for whatever he thought he was doing, at the crowd for being there at that moment, and at Potter for making everything in his life so complicated. Liam skidded to a stop next to Draco, his wavy blond hair blown all over the place and his cheeks flushed with exertion.

"Draco! Oh my god, are you okay?" he exclaimed, kneeling down next to him. Draco couldn't form words, just stared in stunned silence at the stupid, stupid boy who might've just wrecked everything. Where had he even come from? Could he have been watching the whole time? The idea filled Draco with uneasiness. Liam had nothing to do with these trials, nothing at all. He had…no _right_ to be here. Whatever there was between him and Liam belonged in hidden corridors on dark, lonely nights. Not here.

As he thought about it, Draco realized for the first time that he hadn't seen Liam in over a month, not since that night when he'd heard Ginny and Potter in the dungeons. In fact, since then, Draco had hardly thought about Liam at all. He guessed he'd been preoccupied, distracted- by his schoolwork, by his responsibilities, by Harry Potter. For the first time in a while, he'd felt none of the suffocating need for any human companionship that drove him to his meetings with Liam. And since it was an unspoken rule of their arrangement that Liam never sought out Draco's company, when Draco didn't want it, it didn't happen. Liam never said a word about this, never complained, but kept ready, arms open, for when Draco returned to him, as, inevitably, he always did. Liam was reliable that way. When had that changed?

"Do you two know each other?" asked Potter, watching the exchange with bewilderment. Could he read the look on Liam's face? Or did he just find it odd that a strange Hufflepuff boy was expressing concern for Draco's wellbeing?

"No," Draco said, without thinking.

"Yes," Liam said, at the same time. They looked quickly at each other. He would have to cover.

"Yes and no," Draco amended, "He's… in my transfiguration class. We were assigned to do a project together. What was your name again?" Draco stared down Liam, a warning blazing in his eyes. A tense moment passed when Draco was unsure whether the other boy would pull through for him, but finally, with reluctant resignation:

"Liam. It's Liam."

"Right," Draco couldn't stop a little exhalation of relief, "Yeah, now I remember. You must be here to ask me about that…project, right?"

"Yeah…" Liam said slowly, "The project. But then I saw you fall. And I just wanted to make sure you were alright."

"That was nice of you. But, I'm fine. This kind of thing happens all the time in Quidditch. No need to worry." Liam's face had gone almost blank.

"I know. I play Quidditch."

"Really?" Draco gave a short, nervous laugh, "Right, well, I better get back to trials. Wasted too much time already." Not knowing what else to do or another way out, Draco started to stand up. "Guess we'll have to talk about the project another time. Well…see you!" It was at that point when Draco put weight on his left leg for the first time.

He had nearly forgotten his various ailments in the drama after the crash. Consequently, he was entirely unprepared for the pain when it struck him now, full force. Clearly, as his body screamed protest, putting weight on that leg was not a good idea. A sudden sharp pain followed by a powerful throbbing brought him up short. He gasped and cried out. He couldn't keep his balance. He'd shifted his weight back off his leg too quickly, and was too panicked to correct himself. So, he stumbled, and nearly fell, but a pair of strong arms caught him and held him steady.

Hope made his heart flutter, despite the pain, but then Draco looked up and saw that it was Liam who held him, Liam who'd leapt into action and kept him from falling, Liam, with that same infuriating, absurd concern etched into every line of his face. Draco recoiled. It was a gut reaction and he was powerless to stop it. He yanked his arm away, out of Liam's grasp. Somehow, he managed to leap back a step, away from the boy, even with his bad leg. Adrenaline numbed the pain. Draco glared at Liam, jaw clenched, like a wounded animal under attack.

"I told you, I'm fine," he snapped.

"I was just-"

"I don't need your help." He spoke brusquely, harshly. Hearing Draco then, something shifted in Liam's face. The look in his eyes grew hard, guarded, and his mouth moved into a thin, straight line. He put up his hands in a gesture of surrender, and took a step back. He nodded once.

"Understood," Liam said, "Sorry." He sighed. "I won't waste any more of your time. Leave you to it. I guess I'll…see you around." Without another word, without waiting for a response, Liam turned and walked away, head down, hands deep in his pockets. Draco watched him go, mind and thought process numbed. Nobody spoke until he was almost halfway across the field.

"Well, that was uncomfortable for all involved," said a Weasley twin, breaking the silence.

"We were wondering what happened to the Malfoy we all know and love."

"Nearly bit the poor kid's head off."

"Welcome back." They laughed, nudged each other, and started to walk off. Some others, apparently sensing that the climax of the event had passed, followed them. Draco was still teetering awkwardly on one foot, wondering what to do with himself.

"Well, I think whoever that was got one thing right," said Potter, with a hint of a smile, "Looks like you broke something."

"Oh? What gave you that impression?" Draco made a try for sarcasm.

"Seriously, though, mate, how are you still standing?" Potter gave a gentle laugh.

"It only hurts when I put weight on it."

"Won't stay that way for long," he said, "My cousin used to push me off playground sets and into walls. Believe me, I know about broken bones. You'd better go to the infirmary. Madam Pomfrey'll fix you up." Draco knew Potter was right, and he also had a feeling he'd broken more just than a bone or two today.

"Yeah, I guess so."

"I can…go with you, if you'd like. Especially since it was probably my fault you broke your leg. Uh, besides, Hermione here thinks I have a concussion. So I would've had to go myself anyway."

"A what?"Draco asked blankly.

"A- a concussion. It's this muggle ailment that happens when you- actually, never mind. So, do you want me to go with you?" Finally, Draco's full attention was caught, and he only waited a second before he said:

"Sure. Why not?" Potter grinned at him then, and it seemed like everything was worth it.

"Happy, Hermione?" Granger, who'd been watching the exchange with a strangely intense concentration, seemed to snap back into the present.

"What? Yes! Very! You're positive you'll be okay getting there, Harry?"

"I've had Quidditch injuries before. This is nothing. Promise." Potter put a comforting hand on her shoulder. Grudgingly, she smiled.

"Fine. I'd better go. I just came to see Ron's try-out and I have a _load _of work to catch up on. My essay for Flitwick is already five inches past the requirement, but I want to be thorough and it'd be a shame to leave out such vital information! I'll see you in the common room later?" Harry nodded. She gave him a quick little kiss on the cheek. Both Weasley and Ginny, among the last stragglers, started a little. Potter had virtually no reaction, which is probably why it didn't bother Draco so much.

Granger turned to Weasley then and threw her arms around his neck. He looked surprised, but pleased as he wrapped his arms around her waist.

"You did absolutely amazing," she said to him, before pulling away. Weasley was left with a silly, dumbfounded grin on his face.

Almost as an afterthought as she started to walk back, Granger turned to Draco. She had on an odd, strained expression.

"Hope your leg is okay, Malfoy."

"Er…thanks." And as she left, Draco had no idea what to think. He only knew that that was the nicest any of Potter's friends had been to him as yet. That alone was pretty damn remarkable.

"On second thought," Potter said, "We're pretty much done with trials. I think I know who I want. And I better get Malfoy to the infirmary before he passes out on us or something. You can take it from here, can't you?"

"Actually, I was thinking I'd go with you to the-" Ginny spoke up suddenly.

"You don't have to," Potter interrupted, and he must have seen the hurt pass over Ginny's face, since he added, "I mean, you two are already practically on the team. And…you're the only ones I'd trust with this. Please. I'd appreciate it so much." Ginny still looked doubtful, but she relented.

"You owe me, big time." She wagged a finger at him threateningly.

"Of course."

"See you later, then," Ginny said. She pushed her fingers through Potter's hair in a way that was suggestive enough to merit a weird look from her brother. Potter looked slightly uncomfortable. She pulled her hand away, grabbed her broomstick from where it lay next to her on the ground, and strutted away. As she walked, without looking back, she called out, "Hurry up, dunghead!" Weasley gave Potter a slight smile and shrug.

"Duty calls. See ya, mate. Don't let Malfoy try anything."

"He won't," Potter said firmly, "And thanks for the help." Ron offered a mix between a solute and a wave and then ran after Ginny. _Well_, Draco thought, _I guess some things never change_. The possibilities behind "trying something" also snuck into his head, much uninvited.

"Sorry about that," Potter sighed, "It's like they've been trained to think of you that way."

"Haven't they?" Draco asked. They were virtually alone again, and previously eradicated thoughts of the moment after the crash took over once more.

"So…" Potter said, "Ready to get this over with?"

"Let's go." Draco limped over and offered his hand for Potter to pull himself up, while trying hard not to fall over himself. It was a long walk to the infirmary. Potter grinned, took his hand, and stumbled to his feet. Draco could've sworn he let go a moment or two longer than necessary.

As they took off, leaving the Quidditch pitch behind them, Draco thought… _What the hell am I getting myself into? _


	19. An Interesting Walk

Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter walked together in silence, side by side, through the grounds and corridors of Hogwarts School. Oddly, Draco didn't mind the silence much. It was enough to just walk, or rather, _limp_ (thanks to his leg), next to the boy who fascinated him. This was what Draco told himself. It wasn't as if the pair didn't have anything to say to each other. On the contrary, a thousand quarries, conversations, and scenarios rolled around in Draco's thoughts, but he couldn't bring himself to voice them, stubbornly afraid of what would happen if and when he did. So, silence it was.

After all, he had more than enough to think about. Personally, Draco was still reeling from Potter offering to accompany him to the infirmary. He certainly didn't have to. He could've stayed and finished Quidditch trials. He was captain, after all. He clearly wasn't all that injured. Landing first, Draco had gotten the worse end of the fall. Even considering that, though, Potter could've gotten one of his friends to escort him, whether before or after they finished trials. Any one of them would've launched at the opportunity in a second.

But no… Potter had decided to go with him, Draco Malfoy, who, up until a few months ago, had been his most detested rival. Even more, Potter had deterred Ginny from the task of coming with him…. _He chose me over his girlfriend_, Draco thought, near giddy at the idea. Maybe he was reading into it, maybe he was completely and totally off, but there it was. The notion resonated in Draco's mind. He was still amazed.

This didn't start to consider everything else that had happened that day. To think one could go for weeks, months, years, even, with nothing significant or exciting happening, and then one day could come and blow your whole world away. It could create, destroy, renew. It change everything. For Draco, today was one of those days, one of those rare days that the average person doesn't get many of. And in what may have been the most shocking part of all, Draco's day wasn't even over yet.

Draco took advantage of the silence and tried to organize his thoughts. He went through the events of the day and began to catalogue and analyze, sort out his feelings and his brain with as much rationality as he could muster. He had come to the Quidditch field in the pouring rain. He had met Potter in the locker room. He'd seen him change (and had tried not to get too excited by it). Then, they'd talked, and, since a scheduling mishap had put both their teams' try-outs on at the same time, they'd agreed to try and get the Slytherins and the Gryffindors to share for what was probably the first time in Hogwarts history. Draco had certainly had his doubts about it, but in the end he stood up to Smeler, the oaf of a Slytherin Quidditch captain, and had gotten him to consent to the plan. Once Potter warmed the Gryffindors up to the idea, and Smeler told the Slytherins, literally, to deal with it or die a painful death that he would happily enforce, everything seemed set.

Potter thanked Draco for his support, and they were having a nice conversation until Potter's friends, only a fraction of the notorious Weasley clan, burst in and ripped Draco to shreds, right there in front of Potter. Draco had tried to maintain his dignity as best as he could when he stormed off. He was ready to count Potter off right then and there, seemingly impossible as that would be, but Potter ran after him. He told Draco that…he didn't care what his friends thought. That they were friends… that he wanted them to be. That Draco had changed, for the better. That Potter didn't hate him. That, in fact, he liked him.

And, then, they left and went on to their respective teams. Draco was given his seeker spot back almost immediately by Smeler, who put him to work just when Draco thought he might be able to quietly escape back to the castle. His job was insubstantial, and he was left to… not-so-inconspicuously watch Potter as he ran his trials. He would've been content doing that for hours had not the idiot rejected keeper McLaggen had his way with a beater's bat and sent a bludger flying straight towards the back of Draco's skull. But, Potter saw it coming before he did, and in a particularly gallant and stupid fashion, he rushed at Draco and rammed into him from the back.

They'd missed the bludger, but were sent spiraling out of control on a crash course to the ground. Upon landing, and skidding, and rolling, Potter blacked out and Draco found himself more disoriented than he'd ever been in his life. It took him a little while to figure out that Potter was on top of him, and once he did, after turning over so that he was lying on Potter, he was so in shock that he just stayed right where he was. It was surreal to Draco, being so close to the boy, touching him, smelling him, just looking.

Not long after that, Potter came to. His eyes met Draco's and…they didn't have to say anything. Draco couldn't say now how long that moment had lasted, a few seconds or a few minutes or a few hundred years, but he did know how completely incredible it felt. It was reminiscent of when he and Potter took _Amiradus_,back on that first day of Potions class- the same sense of hazy, inhibition-less, _real_ connection. Except this time, there was no funky, hallucinogenic potion involved, and, of course, so much had changed between them since.

But by then, people had begun to take notice of his and Potter's accident. They all rushed over, and the moment ended. Predictably, they were Potter's friends. They mostly ignored Draco, fussing over their Golden Boy, and a lot of them just automatically blamed Draco for the incident, assuming that he'd tried to hurt Potter in some way. In retrospect, that still made Draco furious. _The extents to which a bad reputation will go…_but he did his best to stop the bitter thoughts in their tracks. The important thing was that Potter had stood up for him. He had let them all know that none of it was Draco's fault, and that he himself had caused the crash when he tried to save Draco from the projectile bludger. Their astonishment made Draco want to laugh.

Then, Liam had come into the picture. Draco shook his head. _Liam…_He had mixed feelings about that. Maybe he'd overreacted, been a bit harsh. Maybe Liam had only been trying to help. But still…Draco thought they'd understood each other. Draco was not at all comfortable with the way Liam had acted, for more than one reason. Liam should've known that. Trying to figure out the Hufflepuff boy's motives made Draco's head hurt. Draco had never assumed, and, honestly, had never wanted, to know everything Liam was thinking and why he did the things he did. Still, he thought he knew enough of the boy's character to be able to rely on him for things like this. He guessed he'd judged wrong. Even so, he couldn't shake the feeling of guilt he got when he thought of the look on Liam's face before he walked away. Draco almost wanted to meet up with him… to talk, and maybe apologize, but that was ridiculous. Talking, and emotions, and apologies, for that matter, didn't have much of a place in their relationship, and Draco would be a fool to try and mess with that now.

Draco wasn't sure when he would see Liam again. Of course, he was never really sure when he would see Liam. Their meetings had always been a spur-of-the-moment kind of thing- initiated by Draco on a whim and effortlessly, it seemed, complied with by Liam. But this time was different. Something had changed between them. After today, for the first time, especially considering the way things had been going for him lately, Draco was unsure _if_ he would ever see Liam again.

After Liam left, the rest of the crowd started to disperse, some of them because the action had lapsed, and some because Potter sent them away to return to the trials. He himself had wanted to stay and finish them, but he ended up deciding against that, and offered instead to go with Draco to the infirmary to get their injuries checked out. Granger left then as well, but before she went, she actually stopped to wish Draco good health, a move that thoroughly surprised him, but not one that was unwelcome. On the contrary, it made Draco actually want to rethink his (admittedly rather negative) impression of her character. Potter then sent Ginny and Weasley off to take over the remainder of the trials for him. And so, he and Draco were left unaccompanied once more. They met each other's eyes quickly and looked away. Shortly after that, they picked themselves up and headed on their way.

And so, there they were. They were alone or pretty much as alone as they'd ever been, in the near deserted hallways of the school. Since, so far that year, Draco usually only interacted directly with Potter during Potions, this was new and intriguing. What to do and what to say, if anything, he found himself wondering. He wanted something to happen, no telling what that something was, but at the same time he feared he was getting in too deep. Every time Draco thought much about the whole situation or tried to rationalize, he ended up feeling worse than he had in the first place. There could be no easy answer, no win-win solution to where this was going. It was all so complicated. Draco's life felt like a house of cards, intricate and unstable, when you'd move one and the whole thing would come tumbling down.

Currently, Draco's best bet seemed to be winging it, just going with whatever happened happened and what he was feeling and face the consequences when they showed up. There was no telling how long that strategy would last, however. These days, Draco changed his mind daily.

Draco and Potter had been walking, and limping, and hopping, for around ten minutes, moving at a slow but steady pace towards the Infirmary, and they had come to about the half-way point. _There's still awhile to go_, thought Draco, with both anticipation and dread. Finally, Potter spoke up.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked, nonchalantly. Potter hadn't spoken loudly, but after being confined to his head for as long as he had been, Draco was moderately startled. He turned his head abruptly to Potter, blinked, and, distracted, treaded too heavily on his bad leg and had to stop short.

"_Ow!_" he exclaimed, as by way of answer. Potter reached out an arm and put in on Draco's shoulder to steady him.

"Better be careful there," Potter said, with a small smile. Draco glared at him a little as he managed to balance his weight again and continue walking.

"Does my pain amuse you?"

Potter nodded, falling into step alongside Draco.

"A little, yeah," he joked.

"Very funny. What'd you say before? Think I missed it."

"Uh," Potter hesitated, "I asked you what you were thinking. You seem…thoughtful. I don't know… brooding." They kept walking, Potter keeping his eyes firmly forward, not looking at Draco. Meanwhile, Draco pondered the question. Obviously, this was not one he was about to answer with complete honesty.

"Brooding?" he repeated laughingly, "Seriously? Nice word choice there, Potter."

"Not an answer, Malfoy," Potter shot back. Draco shrugged, feeling pressured.

"I wasn't thinking about anything, really. Nothing important."

"You seemed pretty focused for 'nothing important'," Potter casually commented. This irked Draco. Personally, he couldn't stand when people pushed him, besides the fact that he was already fairly sure he didn't want Potter to know what was going on in his head, considering most of it involved him.

"Maybe it's none of your business," said Draco, without thinking. Potter's eyes widened a fraction. He took a deep breath.

"Okay…" Potter said after a moment, with strained patience, "Forget I asked." The silence threatened to descend upon them again, and Draco panicked.

"Look, sorry, I didn't mean that," he said quickly, "I guess I was just thinking about…everything that happened today." Potter smiled, seeming relieved.

"Yeah…interesting day."

"That's one word for it." He gave a short laugh. Then, he seemed to deliberate.

"What- what happened back there, Malfoy?" Potter finally asked. Draco took an instant to be alarmed. Were they actually going to broach this topic? Were they actually going to talk about the moment between them out on the Quidditch field? It felt like an unreachable and indestructible barrier guarded the subject. Draco didn't know how to react. He was apprehensive, excited, terrified.

"Can you be more specific?" he asked, stalling.

"That…that guy, the one who ran up to you after the crash. What's his deal?" _Oh_, Draco thought numbly, _they were going to cover_ that_ topic_. Dread coursed through him.

"What do you mean?" he questioned cautiously.

"I dunno. Just curious, I guess. He seemed pretty…concerned about you. And I don't remember seeing him around before." Potter looked straight ahead, his gaze calm and his expression carefully composed.

"Erm…like I said, he's in one of my classes. We were grouped together for a project. I hardly know the bloke," Draco lied. Potter hummed, contemplative, as Draco waited tensely, praying that this unwanted conversation would soon come to an end. He had no such luck.

"…seemed awfully concerned for someone he doesn't know," Potter observed.

"Well…how should I know what his business is? Maybe he was in the area already…maybe he's just an _especially_ nice chap…I don't know…maybe he's some kind of crazed fan of mine, hoping for a glimpse of me at Quidditch trials. I'm sure you're familiar with _that_, right, Potter?" Draco glanced at Potter, who smirked, raised his eyebrows, and shook his head slightly. Still, he persisted.

"You did practically bite his head off, though." Draco sighed, but Potter insisted, "It's the truth! Bit of an extreme reaction if you ask me. Didn't seem like you. Well…not the new you anyway." Draco snorted.

"The new me?" he scoffed, "Well, sorry to disappoint. I guess old me tends to resurface when I'm in excruciating pain."

"Thought you said it only hurts when you put weight on it?"

"I put weight on it," he affirmed, "That's why I almost fell."

"Mmhmm. But then, wouldn't you be grateful for someone preventing your fall? He caught you. You acted like he insulted your mother, or…ate your owl or something." Draco wasn't laughing.

"I didn't need his help. I was perfectly fine. Maybe I overreacted. Whatever."

"Maybe?" Potter disputed.

"Okay. Fine. I overreacted. Happy?" He threw his hands out a little in frustration.

"Why are you getting so defensive?" Potter asked innocently.

"_What are you, the bloody _Wizengamot_?_!" he sputtered.

"My point exactly…" said Potter, almost amused. Draco, meanwhile, was far from it. He wanted to shout at Potter, but he took a deep breath and forced his voice to composure.

"You're making a big deal out of nothing," he said, "I told you…I don't know him. He must've been in the area, and was nice enough to run over and see that I wasn't…I don't know…._dead. _I stood up, stepped on my foot the wrong way, and he stopped me from falling. It hurt like _all hell_, so I overreacted….That's it. That's all there is to it." Draco looked at the dark-haired boy, his gaze as calm and sincere as he could make it. At last, Potter nodded.

"Like I said, I was just curious," he repeated, speaking slowly and deliberately, "All I'm saying is that the whole thing seemed a little more personal than that." _Personal?_ Draco thought, _Oh Merlin_.

"You're wrong. Just drop it, okay?" Draco huffed, angry and impatient.

"Okay, if you say so." A few moments passed in silence.

"You really are incredibly annoying," Draco said, unable to resist and unable to stand the quiet. Potter laughed at Draco's accusation.

"Am I? Guess the tables have turned." Draco shook his head.

"No, you were always incredibly annoying," he said matter-of-factly, "Nothing's changed there." A strange look passed over Potter's face.

"What can I say? I guess my aim in life is to drive you mad."

"Well, you're succeeding." It was only after he spoke them that Draco realized the deeper truth of his words. Both boys fell silent for several seconds.

"It has been an interesting day, hasn't it?" said Potter again, staring into the distance. Draco nodded his head but didn't say anything. "Your leg is my fault. I'm sorry about that."

"What are you talking about?" Draco asked, bemused.

"If I hadn't crashed into you, like an idiot, we wouldn't have slammed into the ground, and you wouldn't have had to act as my, er, landing platform…so to speak." Potter's comment caught Draco off-guard.

"You reacted out of instinct. You knocked me out of the way of a rogue bludger."

"And maybe gave you a worse injury than you would have had if the bludger _had _hit you…" Potter countered.

"That's ridiculous," Draco jeered.

"It's not ridiculous, it's a fact! I made a complete fool of myself and I didn't help anybody at any rate." He sounded quite angry with himself, actually. This only served to further piss Draco off.

"Do you realize how much I want to hit you right now, Potter?"

"So you are mad, then? " he said, taking Draco's comment as affirmation. Draco took a deep breath.

"I'm only mad at you because you're acting like an idiot _now_. Now, not then. I… appreciate what you did, whatever the result. So stop apologizing." There was a moment of quiet as Potter mused over what Draco had said. Considering it was probably the understatement of the year, if not the decade, Draco was surprised at how much thought the boy seemed to be giving it. If that was saying too much, he couldn't begin to think of what would happen if he ever told Potter the full truth. Now that…_that.._.was ridiculous.

"Okay then," Potter said finally, and after that, "Took me a little while to sort out what happened back there. You know, before and after the crash." He laughed a little. "…Maybe I do have a concussion." Draco nodded, not even bothering to ask.

"Well, uh…we landed pretty hard. You probably hit your head. You blacked out."

"Mmm…that seems to happen to me a lot," he observed absentmindedly, "Did you?"

"What?"

"Did you pass out?" he inquired offhandedly. Draco swallowed nervously. They were approaching dangerous territory here.

"Uh…no. That's how I know you did. I was awake the whole time… in terrible, excruciating pain, yes, but awake? Sure." Draco smirked at his jibe, but Potter was looking straight at him, with a level of intensity that made Draco slightly at unease.

"Do you remember everything?" Potter's face was serious, and Draco hesitated. Yes, he certainly did remember everything, and those memories were so vivid and present in his mind that he couldn't think straight. Draco decided to play it off lightly.

"Yes, Potter. As previously mentioned, I was fully conscious. Why?"

"Just wondering. Trying to piece together what I remember."

"Right. Were you really that out of it?" he wondered. Potter scowled endearingly.

"Watch it, Malfoy. It could've just as easily been _your_ head. As far as you're concerned, I should be a bloody martyr." Draco threw his head back and laughed.

"And who's the one with the broken leg again?"

"Oh, just shut it Malfoy!" Potter said, though he smiled and raised his eyebrows, "Er… do you mind telling me what you remember? So I can connect the dots, see how our stories match up…" He looked at Draco expectantly. Draco froze. He knew he would have to answer, in full, but he made sure to choose his words very precisely.

"I was running trials… I looked over towards you for a second-"

"I saw you," Potter interrupted, "You had a really guilty look on your face for some reason." Draco cleared his throat and dodged what he saw as a shielded (though valid) accusation.

"Thought you wanted me to tell you what happened, Potter?"

"No, go ahead," said Potter quickly.

"Uh…I looked at you, you got this look of panic on your face, shouted something I couldn't hear…"

"I was trying to warn you, since I saw the bludger coming, I thought I…" Draco was glaring at him, and he trailed off. "Sorry. Continue?"

Draco sighed exaggeratedly. "Then I, uh…turned around, saw it flying at me for a second, and then I felt something slam into me. Then…spinning, falling, chaos. There was the crash. I remember skidding across the field for a _remarkable_ distance before stopping finally, face down in the mud, beat and scratched up, my leg throbbing. I had no idea where I was, or what had happened, anything, for a while."

"But…you do remember everything?"

"The haze faded," Draco said impatiently, "So, once again, yeah. Er…like I said, I landed first. You were kind of…on my back. I couldn't really breathe, so I…flipped over, and saw it was you and…tried to put two and two together. Didn't really figure the whole thing out until everybody came over and you explained what had happened beforehand." Potter was nodding.

"Yeah, yeah…I knew what happened before…and now I'm remembering what you're saying. I woke up and you were on top of- er, above me. And…then everyone else came over." _Well_, Draco thought, _that's it in a nutshell_. He found it very interesting to hear Potter describe what had happened between them. He also noted Potter's word flub, and, when he looked over, how the tops of the boy's cheeks were flushed red. Draco smirked.

"Yup," he said, "And now here we are."

"Mmhm…" Potter mumbled, evidently trapped in his own thoughts. Draco fervently wished he could read minds. He was concentrating deeply on that idea, and on little else, when a loose paving stone inadvertently got in his way. His balance being what it was at the moment, he tripped spectacularly, and fell forward. Draco was sure his face was about to meet the ground fast and hard, when Potter, quite quickly and unexpectedly, reached out and grabbed hold of Draco wrist. Simultaneously, he snaked an arm around Draco's waist, pulling him back up and close towards him.

Draco's balance was restored. He was back on two feet, in Harry Potter's arms, and totally, incurable stunned. He took several deep breaths. For a few seconds, neither of them moved. Draco was so overwhelmed that he could pick up only a few sensations at a time, such as the feeling of Potter's hand splayed across his stomach. Potter's head, so near to his, with his hair tickling Draco's cheek. The heat that the other boy's body enveloped him in.

Then, as quickly as it had happened, Potter dropped his arm from around Draco, released his wrist, and stepped back. Two feet between them, they looked at each other.

"Nice reflexes," Draco said, finally. Potter cracked a sort of relieved smile.

"Why do you think I'm a seeker?" he joked.

"I'm assuming that's a rhetorical question. But…thanks, for that."

"No problem."

"You really are the hero, aren't you?" he said softly. Potter crossed his arms in childish defiance.

"If you don't watch it, Malfoy, I might just have to push you back down."

"So _violent_, Mr. Potter…what would your adoring fans think?" At that, Potter smirked, walked forward a step, and punched Draco lightly on the arm.

"Come on. We're almost there." He gestured with his head, spun around and continued walking. Draco shortly shuffled after him.

Indeed, they were almost there. Draco could see the lights of Hogwarts's infirmary shining from just around the corner ahead of them. He was equally relieved and disappointed. Their walk had seemed to go on forever. He was tired, and the pain in his leg was growing steadily harder to bear. Still, he didn't want to end his trek with the Golden Boy, and he thought that maybe, if they could just keep walking, he'd reach a satisfactory conclusion to the feelings that plagued him and the tension between them. It was much easier said than done.

The rest of their journey was made in silence, and as they drew closer and closer to the doorway, Draco found himself yearning for a nice place to sit down and rest. He also desperately wanted a shower and some warm, dry clothes. His own Quidditch robes were still damp from the rain and they clung to him uncomfortably. Potter's clothes seemed to be suffering from that same effect, though, on him, Draco didn't mind the clinginess.

"Merlin, my head hurts…" Potter groaned, clutching at it and grimacing. Clearly, he was feeling that same fatigue. _Or else_…a thought occurred suddenly to Draco.

"Come on, hustle, Potter, I'm sure you can make it," he said, "Hey, uh, you do think it's that concussion thing, right? You sure it isn't that…that…thing you get sometimes…with your scar?" Draco couldn't meet Potter's eye, and he wondered worriedly if he'd overstepped his bound. He knew about how Potter's curse scar would hurt him, sometimes so badly he blacked out or had fits. He knew this from stories, and from word of mouth. It used to be a valuable source for Draco's ongoing "Harry Potter" comedic act. Potter flipping out over a stupid little headache? Potter screaming and crying and fainting, acting like some pathetic whiny child? That kind of material was golden. Of course, Draco didn't understand, did not even try to understand, what it was that Potter went through when that happened, the underlying reasons beneath it. Draco just used it to his advantage, eagerly seeking out anything that degraded Potter and elevated him.

Now, however, the idea of the lightening scar causing Potter pain, infiltrating his head and taking over, disturbed Draco greatly. He didn't understand it, still, but he no longer liked it at all, nor did he feel it was anything to make fun of. It worried Draco, and also reminded him that his and Potter's relationship went far beyond just the two of them. It influenced, and was influenced by, their classmates, and friends, and acquaintances; this Draco already knew. But as yet he'd hardly experienced what went further than that- the reactions of their teachers, and Draco's family, and further still…what the Dark Lord himself think if he ever found out about this. Draco shuddered involuntarily. Exactly what was he willing to give up, and what risks was he willing to take to keep doing whatever he was doing with Potter, and maybe do still more than that…if that was even remotely possible. Half of Draco yearned for it to be, but the other half dreaded terribly what would happen if it did. Draco felt sure that terrible consequences had to be right around the corner. How could they not be? What good could possibly come from this?

Draco had no idea what to do, or what to think. He couldn't go back, and he couldn't find an easy solution, not by a long shot. So, he figured it was his only real choice to just keep on doing what he was doing, see what could happen, and hope for the best.

When Draco asked about his scar, Potter was clearly caught off guard. Whatever he'd been expecting Draco to say, it hadn't been that. He grew a little guarded, a little defensive, probably remembering what had been said and done in the past.

"No, nothing like that. Not this time," he said after a moment. He searched Draco's face for an explanation. He wasn't going to get one, if Draco could help it.

"Oh," Draco said, embarrassed and relieved, "Okay. Just thought I'd ask."

Upon the following silence, Draco supposed that, yes, it was a good thing that they'd just about arrived.

"Well," he was able to say at last, "We're here." Potter let out a sigh, smiled quickly at Draco, paused briefly, and then strode through wood-paneled doors into the infirmary. He stopped halfway in, looked back, and proceeded to hold the door open for Draco, letting him pass through first. Draco smirked at Potter as he walked by, reluctantly charmed. Potter followed closely after him, and together the two boys entered into the ward.

* * *

_New post? YES, yes it is! Endlessly sorry for the wait. This chapter just won't end, ever. My gosh! So, in a desperate attempt to post at least part of the massive 36 page (unfinished) document, I unfortunately had to cut it in half. So, hopefully the next part of it (this is less than half what I have) will be up soon after this. Oh, and, I would've posted last week, but fanfiction was being annoying and wouldn't let me. It works now! YAYYYY._

_Thank you all once again (I can never thank you enough!) for your amazing support. You are all awesome-tastic and you keep me going! xoxoxox, Ariel _

_REVIEWING IS BETTER THAN CHOCOLATE FROGS! _


	20. New Territory

_Author's note at bottom._

* * *

Almost as soon as the two boys entered the ward, Madam Pomfrey was upon them.

"You two?" tutted the large older woman in white hospital robes, looking them over, "_Why_ is it always you two?" Draco and Potter glanced at each other sheepishly. When she got no response, or perhaps, didn't wait long enough for one, she promptly got behind them and pushed them firmly towards a pair of beds. They knew better than to resist, and under her hawk-like glare, they obediently planted themselves down and awaited her assessment. Madam Pomfrey braced her hands on her hips.

"Quidditch injuries, I presume?" she guessed, judging from their robes. They nodded, and she peered at them gravely. "I would say the majority of students I get in here are coming from that blasted sport. Far too dangerous to be playing in schools if you ask me! But still… none of you listen." Madam Pomfrey looked at them with disapproval, as if daring them to say anything to negate her. "Well then, what happened? Go on! I don't have all day." Potter took the lead, and Draco was perfectly happy to allow him. He was sure that Madam Pomfrey, like practically everyone else in this school, preferred Potter.

"We had a crash landing during Quidditch trials today, Madam Pomfrey. I banged my head. It hurts pretty badly. And we think Malfoy broke his leg." Madam Pomfrey nodded.

"Be grateful it wasn't worse. Broken bones I can fix in five minutes, and Mr. Potter I'll have to see about your head. Though neither of you are leaving without a thorough checkup. Stay where you are. I have to check on the other patients and retrieve what I'll need for you boys. Stay." She repeated, pointing a finger at them so threateningly that they'd have been foolish to disobey.

"Well, looks like we're in good hands," Potter said with an amused smile, as she strode away. He pivoted himself to face Draco on the bed adjacent to his own, perched on its edge. Draco noticed how Potter's feet dangled an inch or so off the ground. Draco wasn't very tall himself, and it was always nice having the height advantage on someone for a change. He, like most people, he assumed, liked feeling dominant sometimes. Unsurprisingly, this particular train of thought led Draco down a _very_ inappropriate track- one where dominance and height differences would come directly into play. He shook his head slightly, determined to clear his hormonally driven mind, as now was _definitely not the time for this_. But then Potter yawned, rubbing at his head again. He swung his legs up onto the bed, leaned back, and stretched.

Draco's mind promptly fried. He watched helplessly as the Gryffindor boy laid all the way down. He spread himself out, muscles tensing and releasing, and rolled around a bit, crumpling the bed sheets. Worst of all, he closed his eyes and made the most…_ delicious_ groaning sound, deep and throaty. _You have _got_ to be kidding me_, Draco thought, as Potter finally came to a resting position, lying on his side with his head held in his hand. Then, he grinned at Draco, and the poor boy could've all but fainted. Hey, what better place to pass out than the infirmary, right? Right.

_Does he have no idea what he does?_ Draco wondered desperately.

"Yup," he responded vaguely, in agreement with Potter's previous statement. His mind, meanwhile, was thoroughly engrossed with other things, such as curve of Potter's lips, the soft pale skin of his neck, the way his robes strained over his muscled chest. Draco hardly even noticed the look of puzzlement Potter was giving him.

"I've been here more times than I can remember," Potter said, without really being invested in what he was saying. Instead, he was staring into Draco's glazed-over eyes, trying to get some sort of reaction out of him. _And now he tries to start a conversation_, Draco marveled, exasperated. He attempted to pull himself back into the realm of the normal.

"I bet," he affirmed, truthfully, "I'm sure I can name a few times even. Don't suppose I sent you here once or twice…" Potter laughed shortly.

"Mmm…right back at you."

"But other times too…didn't you once get all the bones blasted out of your arm by Gilderoy Lockhart?" he recalled with a grin. Draco remembered the incident well. It was during a Slytherin verses Gryffindor Quidditch match their second year, actually Draco's first game ever as Slytherin's seeker. There had been a rogue bludger in that game too, and even with that bludger zooming non-stop at Potter the entire time, he had still managed to catch the snitch right out from under Draco's nose and win the game. Draco had gotten a lot of crap for that. He had insisted that the incident was due to nerves, rather than incompetence, but his pride was still irrevocably damaged afterwards. He'd been ashamed because he should have been better, should have beaten Potter and won the praise of his peers and the approval of his father. His only comfort at the time had been that Potter was, at that moment, probably even more miserable than he was. Dear Professor Lockhart had seen to that, and Draco could only sleep soundly knowing that his greatest rival was stuck in the infirmary, getting several dozen bones re-grown.

"Didn't you once get attacked by a hippogriff for acting like a pompous ass?" Potter countered, with a wicked grin. Draco colored. As much as he'd exaggerated the incident afterwards, his encounter with Buckbeak the Hippogriff remained somewhat traumatizing for him. Even now, he couldn't see a hippogriff, or even a picture of one, without flinching.

"Hey, I was thirteen, give me a break," he said weakly, "When I was thirteen, I _was_ a pompous ass."

"So he admits it?" Potter exclaimed, with a grandiose triumphant air.

"You'll be glad to know I took something positive away from the experience."

"Oh yeah, what's that? Don't be a pompous ass?"

"Nope… Listen to instructions before approaching any and all potentially dangerous creatures."

"Ah…yes, very useful. Anything else?" Draco looked at Potter, whose eyes were glinting behind his trademark round glasses. _Don't try and do everything Potter does, you'll only get hurt_, Draco thought, thinking back. That had been a hard lesson to learn, and it had taken a lot longer than that day to learn it. In fact, he still struggled with it. Don't try to be like Potter, don't always try to follow him, or one-up him. You'll never be good enough, brave enough, strong enough. Not because Potter was the world's golden boy or because he was a spoiled obnoxious prat, as Draco liked to believe when he was younger, but because he was truly someone special. He had something in him that no one could ever fully comprehend, an inherent vitality and a strength that said he was going to be important, that he would change the world. Draco could now say, at least in his mind, in all seriousness, that Harry Potter was amazing.

"Hippogriffs don't like me?" Draco offered, with a shrug, "Hippogriffs like _you_?" Potter smiled, but it seemed more solemn than before. Draco wondered how long it had been before he responded. It was easy to lose track of time when he got lost in thought. Potter was staring at him in concentration. Draco raised his eyebrows.

"What?"

"Nothing. Just-" he hesitated, and then, with more resolve said, "I was just wondering if…"

"Draco?" a soft, inquisitive voice called out, cutting off whatever Potter had been about to say. Draco turned around abruptly, peering around the room for the source. He knew that voice…

Of course. He smiled warmly, eyes locking on a thin bespectacled brunette sitting on a bed near the back of the infirmary.

"Hey Juli!" he called to her across the room, with a wave, "What brings you here?"

Draco didn't see his favorite 4th year Ravenclaw as often as he'd have liked, what with their differing schedules and separate commitments and all, but he still considered her pretty much his best, and close to only, friend. So, he took every chance he could get to meet with her, catch up, laugh… feel normal and welcome for a change. Even now, with his leg broken and with Potter sprawled out on a bed before him, interrupted when he was about to say something potentially important, shockingly, Draco couldn't bring himself to feel any sort of animosity towards the girl.

"Hey to you too!" She laughed, "And, uh…Potions accident." She shrugged and held up her hands, which were covered in a spectacular array of large, purple boils. "Slughorn had the brilliant idea to do a bit of experimental potions. Of course, I get paired up with the boy who likes explosions and thinks Muggle ping-pong is the most incredible game in the world. You were completely right, Draco. Slughorn is a bit of an arse." She smiled slightly, and Draco thought back to an earlier conversation they'd had in the library, shortly after his and Potter's _Amiradus_ debacle. Potter was still lying on the bed, watching the exchange with casual interest. Draco supposed he was surprised to discover two people who did not openly despise Draco within the course of a few hours. Well, it was always nice to prove someone wrong, and with Potter this was doubly true.

"A bit?" he laughed sympathetically, "And ouch. That sucks."

"Tell me about it. But…It's not as bad as it looks," Julianne said grudgingly, "Doesn't hurt, and hey, they're a nice color at least." She sighed. "Merlin, I hate Potions." Draco couldn't help but laugh.

"Well, nice optimism anyway, Juli." The girl brightened slightly at the nickname.

"Oh, believe me, I try. I just don't always succeed. And why are you here?" She glanced him over quickly, trying to discern any visible ailments, of which there were few, so she looked relieved.

"Yeah, I think I broke my leg. Quidditch."

Julianne winced appreciatively, wrinkling her nose.

"Ah. Of course. I've been there. Not fun."

"Nope," Draco agreed, suddenly wishing for the moment Madam Pomfrey would return. Thinking about his leg made the pain undeniably worse. Julianne must have seen something of it in his face, because the gaze she shot him was astutely concerned.

"Are you okay, Draco?" she asked, suddenly serious.

"Everyone seems to be asking me that today," he mused, "But I'm fine. Broken bones are nothing that can't be fixed. No need to worry."

"I know. Doesn't mean they don't hurt," she paused, seemed to consider, "You know…I'm pretty good at pain-relief spells. I volunteer at St. Mungo's on weekends and holidays... I really want to do something in biomedical wizardry, so I guess I'm getting a head start."

"I didn't know that," Draco commented, somewhat disheartened by the reminder that he did not, in fact, know Julianne very well, not as much as he would have liked, at least not yet.

"Well, now you do," Julianne smiled slightly, "Anyway, I was going to say that I could do a charm on your leg to ease the pain until Madam Pomfrey can get to you."

"Oh-"

"I mean, if you want me to," she added quickly, "They're actually not hard at all to cast, and I thought it might help. But you don't have to, of course. It was just a suggestion-"

"Hey, hold on a second!" interrupted Draco, laughing, "No, no that's honestly really nice of you. Thanks." Julianne's reaction was immediate. She turned bright pink and looked down at her knees, her long dark hair falling over her eyes. She tried to hide a smile.

"It's no big deal," she said quietly. She looked up at him through her hair. "So…do you want me to then?" Draco was about to respond when Potter, who had been silent and anonymous the entire conversation, finally sat up. His bed creaked loudly with the sudden movement, and Draco turned around. Potter worked himself to lean against the headboard of the bed frame. He yawned, grimaced, and rubbed intolerantly at his head, pushing his hand through his unruly damp hair. Draco stopped and stared, transfixed. Though he was by no means glad that Potter was in pain (his times of Potter-typified sadism were long gone by now, if they had ever existed in actuality at all), Draco had to admit that pain became the boy. Potter would close his eyes and clench his strong jaw. The muscles in his arms would flex and he would throw back his neck. Draco couldn't take it all in, not even close, and the sounds Potter made - deep sighs and throaty moans- sent shivers up his back. And how he wanted to run his fingers through the boy's hair. Then, Potter spoke, and Draco had to snap himself back to his senses.

"You're not going to magic all the bones from his arm, are you?" He was looking past Draco, and Draco was momentarily confused, before his short-term memory loss resided and he put two and two together. Julianne was there. Draco was talking to her. And now Potter had joined the conversation. What had they been talking about again?

Draco tore his eyes away from Potter to look towards his friend. Julianne was startled, to say the least, at this sudden intervention. She peered a little around Draco, leaning forward, and then shot right back, gripping the mattress of the bed. Her eyes widened dramatically behind her glasses.

"Oh!" she exclaimed enthusiastically, with a short nervous laugh, "Hi! I didn't even see you…"

"He gets his kicks eavesdropping, don't you Potter?" Draco said cheekily, partially in an attempt to re-gain control over the situation. The prospect of his best friend and his…whatever Potter was…meeting and having a conversation was…daunting, to say the least. Potter smirked.

"Nice maturity there, Malfoy."

"What can I say? You walked _right_ into that one," said Draco with an innocent smile. Potter rolled his eyes and turned back to Julianne, who had been eying their exchange in bewilderment.

"Sorry about that," Potter said to her, "So…you are…Malfoy's friend?" Julianne nodded.

"Yes. Er… I'm Julianne McLaulin. Nice to meet you."

"I'm Harry Potter," responded Harry Potter casually. Julianne nodded again vaguely, her mouth slightly ajar.

"Uh-huh."

Draco sighed. This kind of thing never failed to aggravate him, for a host of different reasons.

"Can we get past the whole 'oh my God you're Harry Potter' thing? For everyone's sake?" Both Julianne and Potter turned to frown at him, in a way that would've been comical to Draco if it hadn't been these people in particular frowning at him. "Please?" he entreated, in a softer tone.

"I'm sorry," Julianne admitted, to Potter, a moment after Draco spoke, "I didn't even think I was doing anything."

"You weren't," Potter insisted smoothly, "Believe me, I get that kind of thing all the time. I get a whole lot worse than that. So…no need to apologize." Potter ended his assertion with a friendly smile, clearly expecting that vein of conversation to end there, but his words only seemed to fuel Julianne's regret.

"No, really. I swear to Rowena I'm not a lunatic fan or one of those people who talks about you and spreads rumors and things. I probably seem like a total hypocrite saying that now, but I swear I'm not. It was…unfair of me, and I'm sorry. The last thing I want is to be part of that. All of it… must really get to you, doesn't it? How could it not?" Potter was clearly surprised. He had not been expecting all that. Draco saw something change in the boy's face as he looked at this eccentric relative stranger with new eyes.

"Sometimes," he said distantly, pensively, "I try not to let it." Julianne nodded understandingly.

"I think you do a better job of that than a lot of other people might have, in your position" she mused, but then seemed to consider her words, and quickly amended, "Not that I presume to know you or anything."She coughed indiscreetly, trying to cover the awkward moment. "So, what did you say before? Something about me casting a spell on Draco's leg?" Potter looked blank for an instant, but then recognition flashed in his eyes. He raised his eyebrows and grinned.

"Oh, I was just joking."

"About?" Julianne asked curiously. Draco felt the need to intervene. As interesting as it was to listen to their conversation, and it had been, the notion of Julianne and Potter forgetting about him, as they seemed to be doing, turned his stomach dreadfully. A thousand what-if scenarios formed themselves in his head, none of them at all appealing to Draco. He spoke up, coolly and languidly, hoping to betray no sign of his bout of paranoia.

"Back in our second year, Potter accidently got the bones blasted out of his arm by Gilderoy Lockhart." To Draco's pleasure, Potter chimed in.

"I had to spend a night here having them re-grown. Definitely not fun."

"Doesn't sound like it. Hmm…Lockhart…Lockhart…right. My mum used to be a fan of his before that huge scandal about how he stole all his stories and swiped the memories of the witches and wizards who actually did the things he said he did. I remember reading about it in the _Prophet _a few years back. Didn't he completely lose his mind?"

"You _read_ about it?" Potter questioned, "Don't you remember? I could never forget."

"Julianne's a fourth year. So she never had Lockhart," Draco offered, by way of explanation. Potter was surprised.

"Really?"

"I would've been nine or ten when you were in your second year," admitted Julianne, "I wouldn't have even gotten my letter yet."

"Oh, okay."

"I know a lot of older students though…." she added, and after a brief hesitation, "I'm friends with Ginny Weasley."

"_Really?" _Potter repeated, with twice the emphasis. Julianne read his reaction positively, and seemed glad to have a new facet of conversation to broach.

"Mmmhmm. Last year I got special permission from McGonagall to jump into a couple of classes early. So, Ginny and I were in the same Charms class. We've been pretty good friends ever since. So, um, you could say I've heard a lot about you. Like…more than the usual amount." It was fairly clear what she was implying, and Potter flushed, looking down at his hands, clenched tight in his lap.

"Right," Potter said. He sighed, "I wish she wouldn't tell people so much about that."

"Why's that?" Julianne inquired, cocking her head. Potter looked up at her, gaze guarded, and she hastily backtracked, "Sorry, none of my business. Forget I asked anything."

"Do me a favor and don't tell her I said that, won't you Julianne?" He was so solemn that it was all Julianne could do to nod her head and say,

"Sure. Yeah, of course."

"Thanks." He smiled just slightly and looked back down at his knotted hands. Draco felt a surge of mixed feelings go through him. Was there trouble in paradise? Was it too much to hope? And then again, should he feel guilty for harboring such hopes? Undoubtedly, it was ridiculous to be thinking that way, but he couldn't help it.

There were a few moments of relatively uncomfortable silence, none of them knowing what to say to each other, continually waiting, increasingly less patiently, for Madam Pomfrey to return. She was currently skimming around and through and under curtains and beds far more speedily than her age would seem to permit, constantly and actively tending to the packed ward of sick students. In comparison to many of those whom Draco caught a glimpse of through curtains and in dark back corners, he felt guilty for demanding any of Madam Pomfrey's time. All he had was a broken leg, and here he was spotting a kid who looked less like kid and more like an octopus. Without a doubt, the quick little old lady had more than enough to handle already, with a vast array of magical and otherwise induced ailments on her plate.

It was a testament to how far Draco had come that for once in his life he had no wish to flaunt his injury and therefore enjoy the perks that came with it, whether his "injury" was real, or fictional, or somewhere in between. After all, he had certainly done this in the past. He would take every opportunity to milk a malady for all it was worth and more. In complete honesty, Draco had hardly ever been injured at all, especially not in any serious way. Still, he loved the sympathy and the rewards that came with injury. Most of all, he loved being the center of attention- telling the epic story and being the brave, conquering hero, narrowly escaping death or worse at the hands of a mysterious and terrible threat. He relished all this, and, most ludicrously of all, felt an entitlement towards it. Only now did Draco realize how cowardly and pathetic he had been.

It shamed his pride to take a leaf from Potter's book, but there was really something to how Potter never let getting hurt get to him. And if anyone was prone to injury, it was Potter. Between school and Quidditch and old fights with Draco and being "The Chosen One", Potter got his ass kicked, and hard, on an almost daily basis. But Potter never complained, never exaggerated or even announced an injury. He stuck it out, hid it away, and never let it slow him down. That, in Draco's eyes, was bravery. Others might call Potter's behavior stubborn or reckless or dangerous, but for Draco, it was an ideal to try and aim for.

_Fucking hell, his leg hurt. _Julianne seemed to read his mind.

"Draco?" she asked gently, "Would you still want me to do the pain-relief charm on you? Because I can." He would've let her, since, despite himself, he was in pain, and he trusted her enough to be confident she wouldn't turn his leg into a boneless vegetable. But-

"That won't be necessary, Ms. McLaulin!"

Madam Pomfrey had come back at long last. She emerged from a dense supply closet on Julianne's side of the ward, carrying a basket stuffed full of various magical and medical remedies. She moved swiftly and systematically, shuffling over to Julianne's bedside. Draco felt himself relax instantly, knowing relief was on the horizon.

"I apologize for the hold-up," she said in a clipped, business-like tone, "Busy, busy afternoon. If you ask me, you children are far too careless and your professors are far too lenient with you. You just never learn, and I have to handle the repercussions." She proceeded to pull out from her basket a small plastic jar of a cream-like substance. Presently, she handed it over to Julianne and began to relay her instructions.

"Apply this generously to the affected areas twice a day. Morning and evening," Madam Pomfrey reached into her stores again and gave Julianne a roll of bandages. "And keep your hands wrapped up, to prevent the condition from spreading. They're enchanted to stick when applied, so _do not_ attempt anything on them yourself. I do not want you ending up back here if I can avoid it. The problem should clear up in two to three weeks. If there are any complications- if the boils change color at all or start to exude foul odor-" Julianne pulled a face, "…certainly come right away to get that checked out. But that's not likely to happen. Alright, dear, you're free to go. And tell that Professor Slughorn that I'd like to have a word with him about his teaching methods!" And with that, Madam Pomfrey nodded, whirled around and continued down the ward towards Draco and Potter, leaving Julianne still sitting on her bed with a small smile, staring after the competent old lady with a mumbled thanks on her lips.

Before Draco knew it, Madam Pomfrey was standing directly in front of him. He snapped his head to her, startled.

"Alright," she said, "Can you lift your leg, dear? I'm going to need to get a closer look to access the damage." She looked at him pointedly, and he stammered his ascent.

Getting his leg up to rest on the bed was harder than he'd imagined however. He hadn't moved it in a while, so sudden simulation was causing pretty intense pain. Draco held his breath, gritted his teeth, and, with the help of his hands, managed to swing his left leg onto the sheets.

_Ow, fucking, ow._ Swinging was easier on the ascension, so much harder on the landing. When Madam Pomfrey swooped in and rather roughly moved to push his pants leg up, jostling his calf, Draco couldn't help but gasp from the ache. Reflexively, he hunched over, moving his hands to protect the source of the hurt. Potter, who had been watching silently, voiced his concern.

"You alright?" he asked gently. Draco shook his head, still wincing, and made himself sit back again.

"I'm fine. On the down side, I think I really did break my leg." Potter laughed abrasively.

"Oh, you think?"

Draco was about to offer a sarcastic retort when Madam Pomfrey loudly and warningly cleared her throat. Once again, he focused his attention on her. This shifting of focus was more difficult than one might think.

"What is your name, dear?" she asked, matter-of-factly.

"Draco Malfoy." She squinted her eyes slightly, nodding.

"Yes, yes that's right. The Malfoy boy…I've seen you here before. And of course I know you, Mr. Potter. You on the other hand I can't keep out of my ward!" Potter smiled charmingly.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. I guess I'm a little accident-prone."

"You don't say?" she exclaimed, but returned her attention to Draco, "Now, Mr. Malfoy, you're going to need to keep still for a few minutes so I can do a quick spell-scan. Can you do that?" Draco nodded. He pushed himself back a couple of inches and readjusted, looking for a comfortable position. Then, he made his body still as he could and waited.

Madam Pomfrey placed her basket down on a bedside table and removed her wand, a short, sturdy maple, from a waist pocket of her white robes. She raised both hands, holding her wand completely vertical, and positioned it at the top of Draco's left thigh.

"_Revulem interous_," she muttered. She brought her hands together slowly, and then moved them quickly back to their original distance from each other- about a foot and a half. Upon doing so, a smooth, luminescent blue sheet shimmered in the space between her hands. Through it, amazingly, the nurse could see through Draco's skin and muscle and view his skeleton. Oh so slowly, carefully, Madam Pomfrey inched the sheet down Draco's leg, checking each segment for the problem. Finally, halfway down Draco's shin, she paused, frowning. Draco waited in anticipation for the verdict, and at last Madam Pomfrey nodded and made an elegant circular motion with her hands, severing the connection and reducing the blue screen to smoke.

"Well, you're lucky it wasn't worse," she said brusquely, "You've fractured your tibia. Badly. But for me it's a fairly simple fix. Your leg will most likely be sore for a few days, and I'll have to insist that you refrain from partaking in anything overly active, _especially Quidditch_, for the next couple of weeks. The spell can only go so far, and you have to allow your body time to heal itself. And you don't want to risk aggravating the bone. Do you understand me?" A nod. "Alright then. I won't waste any more time. A warning, this will not be very comfortable on your part."

"Can't be much worse than right now, can it?" Draco grimaced. She shot him a pointed look.

"Trust me, Mr. Malfoy, I know full well what I'm doing. Now, prepare yourself." She lifted her wand, poised it in the air.

"Be strong, Malfoy!" said Potter, with a teasing smile. Draco jerked his head towards the boy with a scowl.

"Oh, shut it!" he exclaimed. Potter just grinned more widely and gave Draco a sort of mock salute. Draco turned back to Madam Pomfrey, rolling his eyes, just as she spoke the incantation.

"_Bomendio_," she breathed, pointing her wand very stilly and specifically at the fractured area of Draco's leg. For a moment, Draco felt nothing, but then a great chill ran through his body and a shudder up his spine. Goosebumps sprang into being on his arms. His leg didn't look any less than normal, but Draco panicked because it felt frozen stiff, like ice. He couldn't move it and all he could feel was cold, a cold that grew more and more frigid until it burned, more like fire than ice.

Just when Draco was sure he couldn't take another second of it, the pain subsided, and all that was left was a general dull ache where the bone had been damaged. He slumped back onto the pillows with a relieved huff, closing his eyes a moment. He brought his hand up to his forehead, which still felt hot, his hair was plastered to his forehead by sweat.

"Alright, dear, you're finished. That should take care of it. But, please do stay and rest for a few minutes. It's a long way back to the Dungeons, after all, and you need to give the spellwork a little time to settle in." Draco nodded absently. As if he was planning on leaving…

Besides the fact that he never wanted to get up again after that ordeal, Potter was still there, and if anything was worth sticking around for, he was.

"You okay, Draco?" Draco was asked, for the millionth time that day. Languidly, Draco looked up from the pillow to see Julianne gazing down at him, her purple backpack slung over one shoulder. _Oh, and there's that_, he remembered.

"Fine. Again," he laughed, a bit impatiently, "Wasn't fun, but I'm good as new and I'm just going to lie down for a little while and maybe sleep for the next two months."

"If that were possible, I would join you," she said empathetically.

"Anything's possible if you believe, Julianne," he sighed exuberantly, nuzzling into his pillow. Draco stared past her to where Potter was sitting up on his bed, apparently relaying the full story of what happened to Madam Pomfrey, who was prodding at his head with her wand. Potter, wincing and talking though he was, saw Draco look over and paused a second to offer him a short smile. Draco grinned back, the flutter in his chest heightened by tiredness and perhaps the healing magic coursing through his veins.

"You don't believe that," Julianne stated, rather seriously. He looked back at her, met her eye, and realized what she'd said.

"Maybe I do, maybe I don't. Why, do you?" he asked casually, though he was curious. She considered.

"I don't know. Sometimes." She shrugged slightly. Draco disapprovingly and exaggeratedly clucked his tongue at her.

"You don't know? How disappointing. I thought you had all the answers…" Although he was mostly joking, there was a hint of sincerity in his words.

"Oh, you'd be surprised," Julianne smiled, "I'm honestly just as clueless as the rest of you."

"Then I guess there's no hope for the rest of us…" Draco sighed dramatically.

"No, don't think like that!" she chided, sounding worried, "You don't seriously think that way, do you?" _Did he?_ Draco wasn't even sure what he was saying anymore.

"What can I say, Julianne? You are just so amazing the rest of the world pales in comparison."

Julianne smiled suddenly, caught off guard. She looked down at her feet, face flushed.

"Do you mean that?" she asked quietly. Though a little confused by her earnestness, Draco gave a grin. He shrugged.

"Sure," said Draco, and then he added, "You're my best friend." The words felt funny coming from Draco's mouth (after all, he'd never said them before, to anybody) but it was somehow very nice to say them. He'd been thinking it, and he meant it, so why not say it? Julianne McLaulin was his best friend, and he'd be damned if the world didn't know!

Her reaction was unprecedented, however. Her smile faltered, just for an instant, and something flashed in her eyes. Then, before a second had passed, she was jubilant again, like nothing had changed at all.

"Likewise," Julianne said, with a nod of her head, "I'm really glad we're friends, Draco…I like you a lot."

"I like you too, Juli."

"I really don't see you enough!" she exclaimed suddenly, his comment spurring her enthusiasm, "We should… meet up sometime? Do you want to?"

"Sure. Definitely. We'll..." Draco trailed off abruptly, his eye now caught by something else.

Sitting on the bed opposite Draco's, Potter's face was scrunched up with pain, his eyes squeezed shut and his jaw tight. Madam Pomfrey was presently holding him in some sort of head-lock. Although he was unsure as to how that would help a head injury, Draco accepted this without further question. It was best not to argue with Madam Pomfrey.

"Draco?" Julianne called bemusedly, "Hellooo?"

"Oh, uh…we'll make plans. We'll figure something out," Draco finished lamely, his true attention elsewhere.

"Ow. Owwww." At Potter's audible show of pain, Julianne too looked towards him, following Draco's gaze.

"Yes, Mr. Potter, judging from your story you would do well to heed your friend Granger in the future." In response to their blank stares, she impatiently added, "You have a concussion," and rapped Potter once on the head with her wand. That time, Draco winced for him. _So there it was_, he thought, _the fabled existence of that mysterious injury_. Madam Pomfrey continued.

"Luckily, there is a simple magical cure for it. Understandably, concussions are more of a hazard for Muggles. In our world, they are so easily dealt with that they've become almost obsolete. Why, many wizard-born children have never even heard the word before! Dangerous or not, that kind of ignorance is simply careless." She shook her head frowningly, and Draco tried not to feel guilty. He'd never before considered how Muggles could know things he did not. It was a novel thought, and it frightened him a little, but less so than it would have scared him just a few months before.

"I know what concussions are," Potter said to her, as she rummaged again through her basket, "I lived with Muggles for ten years of my life."

Madam Pomfrey nodded surely.

"My point exactly- there is no such thing as wasted medical knowledge!"

Julianne, smiling, leaned back and whispered in Draco's ear.

"I think she's pretty admirable, actually."

Draco guffawed, "That's one word for it."

"…try to clear your head of all disruptive thoughts. Take deep breaths, and relax," Madam Pomfrey was saying, "Alright…_cabeparose_." She flicked her wand shortly once, and then sharply turned her wrist. With body perfectly still, Potter's head began to shake wildly, almost violently, so much so that it worried Draco. Then, as Madam Pomfrey withdrew her wand, Potter relaxed all at once. The shaking stopped immediately, and Potter's head flopped loosely back on his neck. The rest of his body followed, until he was lying back down on the wrinkled sheets, curled up on his side. Draco let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

"Ow," Potter repeated, eyes still shut, "It felt like my brain was rattling inside my skull."

"That's perfectly normal," said Madam Pomfrey calmly, "The feeling will let up in a couple of minutes or so."

"Brilliant," Potter laughed incredulously.

"Think you'll survive it, Potter?" Draco asked, with a grin. Potter looked over at him.

"I think there's a pretty good chance," he said cheekily, "Disappointed?"

"Oh, without a doubt."

Julianne, who stood between their beds still, had her head cocked to one side, observing the boys' conversation. She seemed to be contemplating something.

"Wait," she spoke up suddenly, "Did you two come here together?"

Draco shot her a look. He was surprised that Julianne, intelligent as she was, had not picked up on that before this point. They had walked in together, were sitting on adjacent beds, and were both wearing dirty, damp Quidditch uniforms. It wasn't that difficult.

"Yeah," he said, confusedly, "I thought it was obvious. You seriously didn't know?"

She looked down, embarrassed.

"I had a lot on my mind," she said, somewhat defensively, "And I was distracted. I didn't see Harry until he started talking, and I didn't notice you guys walk in. I guess I just didn't put two and two together." She crossed her arms.

"It's okay," Draco said gently, "No big deal."

She shook her head.

"So…you two were at Quidditch? And Draco broke his leg, and Harry got a concussion. What happened?"

Draco and Potter glanced at each other quickly. A new idea seemed to occur to Julianne, and her brow furrowed.

"Hold on," she said anxiously, "You didn't….get into a _fight_ did you? Is that how you both got hurt? Did you do this to each other?"

"Wait, what?" Potter asked, sitting up on his elbows, looking troubled.

"Were you two fighting?" she asked again, urgently, "I'm sorry if I'm overstepping my bounds here, but I just know you guys didn't always get along, especially last year, Ginny's told me about it… that you were actually pretty notorious for not getting along, and I really really wouldn't want you to get hurt, and I hate it when people fight like that, after all there are so many better ways of resolving things, and-"

"Wait!" Draco interrupted, laughing a bit frantically, "If you'd just let me explain…you're overreacting." Julianne raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms, waiting less-than-patiently for clarification. Potter seemed almost bitterly amused.

"Well, she's pretty excitable, isn't she?"

"You have no idea," Draco said to him. Madam Pomfrey, who had been teetering around the ward, tending to other patients, spoke up again as she approached them.

"Nobody will be getting _excitable_ while I'm around, thank you kindly. I won't have you aggravating injuries." From the vast expanses of her basket (Draco was beginning to suspect a space-altering charm), she pulled out a small transparent jar containing a type of white shimmering cream. She opened the jar with a firm twist of the cap, thrust her hand into it, and promptly reached over and began to generously apply the cream to Potter's face. "For the cut," she offered, as by way of explanation. Potter nodded. After hardly a few seconds had passed, the deep slash began to heal and fade before Draco's eyes.

As he watched, it occurred to him that he hadn't seen his reflection once since the accident. He didn't even know if he had sustained something similar during the fall.

"Do I have something on my face?" he asked of no one in particular, "A cut or anything I mean?" Potter looked up, his eyes making a quick scan of Draco's face, and he was about to respond when Julianne beat him to it.

"Nothing as bad as Harry's," she said, "But you have a little scratch…right…_there._" Julianne lifted her hand tentatively to his cheek, bringing her fingertips up to brush against the light mark there. "Does that hurt?" she asked, her voice soft.

"No. Not really," Draco answered, and it didn't. Julianne dropped her hand and put it in the pocket of her robes, looking away. Potter watched on, his expression cool and composed.

"Don't worry," Madam Pomfrey said, "You're next." Draco tried to ignore the ominous sentiment of that announcement.

"You don't have to stick around," he said to Julianne, "I'm sure you have better things to do than watch me get cream rubbed into my face. I don't know how long it's going to be anyway…" Draco didn't exactly want her to go, but he saw no reason why she should stay, or why she would want to, or even why she'd been hanging out this long already. Plus, if she stayed any longer he could see things taking an awkward turn that he'd rather avoid.

"I don't mind," Julianne said, surprising him, "Besides, I'm not leaving until you tell me the full story here." Draco sighed.

"Okay, uh…it was nothing like that. Really. No fighting. It was just a Quidditch accident. A normal, ordinary Quidditch accident involving a bludger and a crash into the ground. It had nothing to do with me and Potter fighting, so…I can promise you, you have nothing to worry about."

"Oh."

"He's telling the truth," Potter added, "Malfoy and I are…we're friends now. No more fighting."

"That's right…we used to loathe each other, but now….we're just right chummy, aren't we, Potter?" Draco laughed weakly. He hesitated, "And, uh…don't believe everything Ginny says, alright?" He glanced nervously at Potter, waiting for a negative reaction, but Potter didn't protest. Julianne was nodding.

"Well, I think it's great that you guys managed to work out your differences. It's really great," she smiled, relieved and happy, "If only more people could do that…you know, get over petty rivalries like you two did? It's really great."

"Uh-huh," Draco said.

"Great," Potter repeated. There was a moment of silence before Madam Pomfrey exclaimed:

"Your turn, Mr. Malfoy!" Before he knew it, cold, moist fingers were on his face. Vigorously, they rubbed over his cheek, so that _ow, owww, okay that did hurt_. Plus, they smelled strange: an odd, not entirely pleasant odor from the cream. Madam Pomfrey's fingers were so close to his mouth that Draco could practically taste the stuff on them, and he was trying not to gag….but soon enough, it was over, and he reached his own hand up to his skin, which tingled as the ointment worked its way into his pores. He rubbed his thumb over the spot Julianne had identified, but any scratch that had been there was now gone, leaving only the greasy residue of the medicine behind. He wiped the film of it on his trousers, wishing he could wash his face. _Well_, he supposed, _could have been worse_.

"The look on your face right now is hilarious, Malfoy," Potter said laughingly. Draco glared at him half-heartedly.

"Alright, dears," Madam Pomfrey said, restoring the unpleasant cream to her basket, "You can go, all of you. In fact, I insist. Please leave now and don't come back for as long as you can help it." Her expression softened a little, "_Try_ to be careful, alright? Good-day." Then, she turned and strode away, wiping a hand across her forehead and mumbling about _this dangerous school_ and _those reckless teenagers_.

The three reckless teenagers grinned at each other.

"Do you suppose we should go, then?" Draco wondered aloud, half-kidding.

"I think she might try to kill us if we stay any longer," Potter noted, "So, yeah, probably a good idea."

"You may be right," Draco said with a sigh, "Regrettably." He heaved himself off of the hospital bed and watched as Potter followed his example. Potter gestured to the door with a slight flick of his head, flipping his unruly bangs across his forehead. Draco sighed and glanced down at his shoes. _He is so infuriately cute_.

"After you, oh great Chosen One," he said, looking up with a smirk.

"Prick," Potter responded, but he smiled.

"Are you coming, Juli?" Draco asked her. She started, and her eyes took a second to focus on him.

"Uh, yeah, sure," she said. Together, the three of them made their way to the hospital doors. Potter stopped to look back and direct a parting wave to Madam Pomfrey, who acknowledged their departure with a stiff nod. Draco grinned as Potter rolled his eyes endearingly, and then Potter pulled open the door by its brass handle and stepped back for the other two to pass. Draco shot him a look and allowed Julianne to go before him. She smiled at the gesture that he had hardly even noticed. After staring Potter down for another second or so, Draco finally reached the door frame. A hair's breadth away from the other boy, he smirked and said:

"You know, I can open doors for myself, Potter…" The dark haired boy took a shallow breath. He spoke quietly, with a cool air.

"It's called chivalry…Malfoy. You should try it." Draco cocked his head to the side.

"Ooo, very cheeky, Potter," he said, his volume matching Potter's so that he spoke almost confidentially, "Always were the Gryffindor…"

"I guess I am, aren't I?" Potter said carefully. Their faces were barely an inch apart. Draco felt his mind go blank as his eyes flickered from Potter's bright eyes to his pink lips. Potter held his gaze, and the moment seemed suspended in time.

Then, Draco gulped, took a deep breath, and walked through the door. Potter followed him, so closely behind that their shoulders brushed. The three of them stepped out into the corridor and stood quietly, a slightly awkward silence looming.

"So…" Potter said, "Where are you two headed now, you think?"

Draco and Julianne shot each other an uncomfortable glance.

"Well, uh…" stammered Julianne, glancing at her watch, "Potions is over by now, but I do have a class I should probably be getting back to..." She made a face as if contemplating something unpleasant.

"Oh, what class?" Potter asked.

"From the look on your face it's something pretty horrible," Draco added, laughing a little.

"Defense Against the Dark Arts," she admitted.

"That is horrible," Potter said, with a shudder.

"You'd certainly think so," noted Draco. Julianne seemed to be encouraged by their apparent interest.

"I'm honestly a bit terrified to show up to Professor Snape's class ten minutes late. What does he even _do_ to someone who shows up ten minutes late?" Draco laughed.

"Be glad you're not a Gryffindor. Then you'd have an even smaller chance of coming out alive."

"Fantastic," she said numbly, "Well, I guess I'll be going then. And where are you guys going?"

"I'm just gonna go back to the common room, I think," Draco said, deciding as he said so. He could get some homework done and then make time to get down to the Room of Requirement. That was a project he was really desperate to get some headway on. His stomach turned over with dread.

"And I'll head back to the Quidditch pitch," Potter was saying, "See how Ginny and Ron are getting along. If they're done yet…"

"We're all going in separate directions," Julianne observed, "So I guess this is goodbye."

Draco nodded.

"Yeah. So, I'll see you soon, Juli, okay?" Draco lifted his hand to wave goodbye, smiling slightly, and thought to end it there, but Julianne leap into action. She ran straight into his arms and hugged him tight, her head resting on his shoulder and the edge of her glasses poking his chin. Draco was very much caught off guard. He didn't have much experience with this kind of thing, and he wasn't exactly comfortable with it, nor had he been expecting it, but he supposed… it was kind of nice. After staggering back a step, he accepted the hug and slunk his arms around the eager girl's waist.

"We'll make plans, right?" she said into his ear, sighing contentedly.

"Yeah, yeah, we'll make plans." After a second longer, she pulled away, grinning at him. She turned to Potter, who stood a few feet away, looking awkwardly off to the side.

"It was nice meeting you, Harry. Really…_really_ nice meeting you."

"Nice meeting you too," he said amiably, "I'm sure I'll see you around."

"Yeah. Absolutely. So…goodbye then!". Julianne smiled and waved and, after a hesitant bounce on her heels, swooped in and gave Potter a hug as well, so quickly the boy hardly had time to react. She waved one more time and began to back away. "Bye Draco."

Julianne glanced at her watch. "Crap. Gotta run! See you!", and she bolted down the hallway, her brown hair flying behind her.

"Good luck!" Draco called after her.

She rounded a corner and she was gone, leaving Draco and Potter alone once more.

"Quite an interesting character, that girl."

"Ha. Tell me about it," Draco said with a smile. Potter paused uncertainly.

"Er…I don't mean to pry, but…do you have…something… _going on_ with her?" Draco snapped his head up. Potter was looking down at the floor.

"What?"

"I'm sorry, it just seemed…I don't-"

"Something…going on? With me and…Juli? No! No, of course not. I mean, we're just friends. Why would you think…?" Draco had the distinct feeling that the more he tried to assert this very valid point, the more it seemed like he was hiding something that he was most definitely not hiding. Well…certainly not the something that Potter was imagining, for reasons totally unprecedented to Draco.

"Okay, I get it," Potter said with a smirk, "It was stupid. Forget I asked."

"No, really, though, Potter," Draco stressed, "There is _nothing _going on between me and Julianne."

"I believe you."

"You do?" asked Draco dubiously.

"Yeah, I do. I understand where you're coming from. People always think me and Hermione are dating, and she's practically my sister. It creates a lot of unnecessary issues. So, I get it. No big deal." Draco visibly relaxed, relieved, and also a bit guilty, remembering the times in the past where he himself had made jibes about Potter and Granger being together in that way.

"Okay, good," he said, unable to meet Potter's eye, "Well, then… I guess we'd both better get going."

"Yeah," Potter said gruffly, "I'll… see you in Potions!"

"Yup."

"And…Malfoy?" Draco met his eyes. "Er…thanks, again, for everything." Draco felt a little jolt in his chest. He nodded with assumed smugness.

"Just know I still plan to kick your arse first Quidditch match, Potter. Nothing changes that." He smirked.

"Wouldn't have it any other way, Malfoy."

Not knowing what else to do, and hating goodbyes, Draco held out his hand to Potter, with a shrug as if to say 'see ya'. Potter looked down, perplexedly, at the other boy's outstretched hand. The moment prolonged itself and Draco was feeling increasingly awkward when Potter finally looked up, a peculiar smile on his face.

"What are we…closing a business deal?" he said.

"Excuse me?" Draco squinted at Potter.

"Making an unbreakable vow?" Draco lowered his hand.

"I honestly don't have an idea in hell what you're talking about, Potter," he said, speaking evenly. Potter shrugged.

"I mean, why do we have to be so formal about it?"

"How do you mean?" Draco asked, a little warily.

"Look. We've been friends for a little while now, right?" Draco raised his eyebrows and nodded slowly. "Well, I feel… pretty comfortable around you. And you feel pretty comfortable around me as well, don't you?"

"…I suppose," Draco said, looking down. Potter's eyes widened a fraction, and then he smiled and said:

"Yes. Right. Exactly. Look," he said again, "Your friend, the girl-"

"Julianne," Draco supplied instinctually.

"Julianne," Potter repeated apologetically, "Julianne hardly knows me at all, and I hardly know her, and she…hugged me before she left. So…why must _we_ be so formal?" Potter stared at Draco then as if this was supposed to have some sort of obvious meaning. Draco frowned.

"Still not getting that point of yours, Potter."

Potter sighed. He pushed a hand through his hair exasperatedly. Then, his eyes met Draco's, a look of hard determination set in them. Draco felt his pulse speed up and his heart beat frantically as Potter took a step towards him, quickly and resolutely. Potter leaned in and Draco's thoughts were in a panic, his body terrified into paralysis. The beautiful boy of Draco's waking dreams drew closer, and no words could form themselves on Draco's lips as Harry Potter reached forward and…

_Embraced him. _

Draco breath caught. Harry's hands snaked under Draco's arms, held still at his sides. They circled around Draco's waist, hands both strong and gentle, and came to rest near the small of his back, Harry's right hand holding on to his left wrist. Harry's fingertips lightly brushed Draco's back, and his head leaned into Draco's, wild dark hair tickling Draco's cheek as he held tight. They were so close that their entire torsos were touching.

Draco couldn't breathe, too overwhelmed to think, shocked stiff. It felt like a great electrical current was sweeping his body, setting his nerves on end. It was like fire, burning deep in Draco's chest and into his heart. And he couldn't get enough.

Through some miracle, he managed to take in some air through his flaming lungs, and through his scorching head, he regained thought process enough to react.

Slowly, Draco brought his arms up, and up, until they reached Harry's shoulders. He was almost afraid to touch him, but everything within him was screaming at him to do just that. So, Draco allowed his arms to lift up, to fold around Harry's shoulders and encircle his neck, brushing against the soft hair there. He let his forehead fall upon Harry's shoulder, nose pressed against the collar of his cloak. He breathed deeply, at last relaxing into the other boy's arms. He closed his eyes.

_It was far worse than Draco had thought._ Harry Potter was better than air, better than water, or food, or anything else Draco could think of. This was all he needed in the world….to be right here, in Harry's arms, for the rest of time.

It was a train wreck doomed to happen. A glorious addiction. A beautiful disease. He realized this, and was powerless to stop it.

After an indeterminable period of time, Harry began to let go, fingers trailing across Draco's skin as he pulled away. Draco, taking the cue, slowly and reluctantly lifted his chin, detached his arms, and started to back away. He opened his eyes at the last second to find Harry's usually steady gaze staring back at him, rapt with feeling. Draco almost wanted to say something, but he couldn't find any words even close to sufficient or appropriate.

"I-" Draco said. Suddenly, Potter's gaze broke. He looked down, his posture abruptly guarded. He swiped a hand frantically across his forehead and began to back away quickly, step by step until he was out of Draco's reach. Draco stared after him, uncomprehendingly.

"Well, bye then," Potter huffed, not looking at Draco, and before Draco could muster up a response, Harry was gone…sped off down the corridor and around the nearest corner he reached.

Draco stared after him, unsure what on earth or hell to feel. All he could think was: _What the _fuck_ just happened? _

"_Well_," a voice from behind Draco made him jump violently and spin around, "Wasn't… that…just…_ touching_."

* * *

_Update! Yup yup! Well, I have no excuse besides life gets in the way. But, here you go and I hope you enjoy. This is the longest chapter I've ever written, so to those wanting longer chapters...haha...well, there you have it! And to everyone going "JUST LET THEM MAKE OUT ALREADY!": I understand completely where you're coming from, but these things have to happen organically. After getting this far, I'm not about to push it without it getting there first. And trust me, it's almost there. Like...I have it planned. I know how it's going to happen, and when it's going to happen (relatively soon). But, to hold you over until then, here's a nice angsty hug. I thank you endlessly for your support and all you've given me. YOU ARE AMAZING PEOPLE! As always, please let me know what you think about the chapter, because reviews are my galleons. Love and Drarry, Ariel 3_


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